Ruby Red
by Celestial Delinquent
Summary: AU – Loki knows there's nothing more satisfying than the steal. It's you and the object of your desire. See, some say the world is black and white, a clear cut line in the sand. Those are the kind of people who haven't really lived because life is full of colors and sometimes they leave you seeing ruby red. - Loki/OC - 40s Noir - Obviously A Bit OOC
1. prologue - the thirteenth hour

**Summary:** AU – Loki knows there's nothing more satisfying than the moment of the steal. Everything is on the line. There's no room for error or doubt. It's you and the object of your desire. If you're good enough it's yours. If not, it's fifteen minutes of fame and a quick drop in the slammer. There are only two options, well usually. See, some say the world is black and white, a clear cut line in the sand. Those are the kind of people who haven't really lived because life is full of colors and sometimes they leave you seeing ruby red. - Loki/OC - 40s Noir Setting - Obviously a bit OOC

**Authors Note:** Don't really have an explanation for this one. A strange idea struck me and, though most are ignored, this one found its way to paper. The idea has been fully realized so I don't suspect it will go on long, but it was too complicated for a one-shot. Multiple viewpoints, but mostly from Loki/OC. There will probably be some guest appearances or at least mentions of other Marvel characters just because. :) And if anyone's interest chapter titles are taken from noir movies. Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading.

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**prologue**

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**~ the thirteenth hour ~**

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_ It was just after midnight and it was dreary, a slow drizzle of rain on a warm summer evening. A thin fog clung to the ground mingling with the hot humid night. The air was still, too still in fact, as if the world sat in anticipation. It was the big night, the night of the score. One way or another Spectre was going down, but sometimes when it rains it really pours and that's not just a statement about the weather._

_ Detective Phil Coulson walked across the street, barely making it to the other side before he was lit by the beams of an oncoming car. The driver blared the horn as he hopped onto the sidewalk, missing a puddle, but getting sprayed by the wheels as they rolled through the murky water. He shook his leg trying to ditch the droplets, but the damage to his heather gray tweed suit had already been done. He stared at the drying water on his shoes. He'd just had them shinned and now they were once again dulled by residue. That was life though. A detective with shiny shoes wasn't doing their job. It was a dirty profession, cleaning the streets of two-bit crooks, and there was no coming out the other end without some grime._

_ As he came upon the black unmarked panel van he glanced around, adjusting his gray homburg, which sent a cascade of water that had pooled along the brim. He was making sure he hadn't been tailed. The streets had eyes and the second they noticed they'd send whispers through the alleys. He gave pause as another car drove by, with windows cracked as a manicured hand flicked cigarette ash on the street. A thin line of smoke billowed up against the paint job of the sleek white LaSalle convertible. Phil let out a silent whistle at the beauty of forged steel. A soulful tune by The Ink Spots rang out from the radio, belting a few lines before the car disappeared in the maze of city streets._

_ "Into each life some rain must fall; but too much is falling on mine..."_

_He watched the red taillights for as long as he could before finally turning back to the van. As he opened the back door and slipped inside two men turned to stare at him, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. They were sitting at equipment and listening with headphones. Both had taken off their jackets and loosened their ties. It was hot and humid in the tiny interior and he cringed at the sickly sweet smell of body odor in the air._

_ "What's the chatter like?" he asked as he took a seat nearby and shut the doors._

_ "On and off. They keep talking about the Ruby...drat, sorry, I know, I keep getting confused."_

_ Detective Coulson nodded his head as he sat back in his chair. The big moment was almost upon them. Everything was in place and they were just waiting for Spectre to make his fatal move. Phil was set to relish in the biggest criminal takedown of his career and it was long overdue. So many sleepless hours and tormented nights were about to be worthwhile._

_As he ran through the details again, making notes and checking them twice, he realized something was bothering him. Facts were mixing up and certain pieces were somehow interchangeable. Suddenly he slammed his fist on the table, taking some twisted comfort in the harsh sting that numbed his fingers. He should have seen it sooner. The signs were all there staring at him, clear as day, but he'd been blinded. His sights were so set on Spectre that he hadn't seen the entire chessboard. It was the disastrous flaw that had fixed the game._


	2. chapter 1 - this side of the law

**chapter 1**

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**~ this side of the law ~**

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Loki had walked a crooked mile before he came back to this city, this city of dreams with big lights and big schemes. As hard as he tried to leave her, this city always called him back, full of promise and regret. That's why it was so fitting to bid his adieu on her stage, one last performance before the final curtain, one last affair before the parting kiss.

Loki strolled casually down the street. His black suit was neatly pressed and he carried a golden cane in one hand. Women passed him seductive glances as he walked by. He indulged them with an intense stare and playful smirk. He liked a casual tumble with a pretty face as much as the next gent, but beyond that he had to draw a line. There were certain aspects of his life that an average dame would find unacceptable so, needless to say, he was always on the lookout for a not-so-average dame.

With one last tap of his cane against the concrete he tossed up the golden rod and caught it, tucking it in the crick of his arm. Suddenly an alarm rang out in the distance and a few moments later cop sirens joined the chorus. Everyone along the street stopped to stare, making their way towards the sound because curiosity often overran fear. It was a fatal attraction, the thrill of adventure, the promise of danger. Even the calmest of minds and the purest of hearts craved a little exciting flutter. He didn't bother though. He didn't need to. He got his thrills elsewhere, not to mention he knew full and well what happened.

He had been in line at the bank, making a withdrawal, when the three men strolled in. They were all well dressed with a casual demeanor, but it was the little things that gave them away. There was no crease in their trousers and their white shirts under their mismatched blazers had the fine lines of wrinkles. They were simple men playing a bigger part. Bank robbers the lot of them, shifty in their eyes and jittery on their feet. He'd tucked away the bank notes and swiftly ducked out of the building. He didn't need the attention. They were amateurs, fresh off a dry run and looking to score big, but the only thing they were about to find was the cold comfort of a prison cell. They were doing it all wrong. A thief always waits for the cover of nightfall. The darkness is your mother, your brother, your father, and your maker. She hides your sins and carries your secrets. He knew this well enough because she harbored plenty of his. The music box of ancient winters, the crystal tesseract, all part of a growing list of items he secretly collected with the help of the dark mistress.

To say he was simply a thief was to belittle his prowess. For there's nothing more satisfying than the moment of the steal. Everything is on the line. There's no room for error or doubt. It's you and the object of your desire. If you're good enough it's yours. If not, it's fifteen minutes of fame and a quick drop in the slammer. There are only two options, well usually. See, some say the world is black and white, a clear cut line in the sand. Those are the kind of people who haven't really lived because life is full of colors and sometimes they leave you seeing ruby red.

Rounding the corner he made his way to a green Triumph Roadster. The black cloth top was down and she shimmered with a new coat of wax. It was the only downside to the big city. There were no open stretches of road where he could let her run free, catching the wind and chasing the horizon. As he slid into the driver's side his brother, Thor, passed him a suspicious glare. He'd protested the stop, but Loki had pocketed the keys and with a clever smirk informed him that he was more than welcome to walk. The smug look on Thor's face had been well worth the hollow threat.

"Already causing trouble?" Thor inquired as he slid his arm onto the car door and flashed a smile to a passing couple, "You've only been here a day."

"Why must you assume I'm behind every siren in the city?" Loki remarked as the engine purred to life, a remarkable feat of mechanized steel and dreams.

"The greater mistake would be to assume you're not..." Thor stated as he straightened his red tie.

Loki let out a playful laugh as he took off down the street, watching a line of black-and-whites speed the other way with sirens blaring. His brother was right. He was always right. Loki had a knack for trouble and didn't feel the need to be modest about it.

With a pat on Thor's shoulder he gave him a scrap, "Brother, when I'm behind it you'll know."

"Oh...I know..." Thor mused before he shook his head and turned his blue eyes to the gray cityscape.

He was the primary owner of Mjolnir Electric. Their father Odin had given him the keys to the corporation, as a test of sorts, to see if he would sink or swim. Of course Thor had prospered. His charm and brute business dealings elevated the company, as it now held a monopoly, providing power to every major city and nothing hut between the east and west coast.

"So what are your plans tonight?" Thor asked as he passed a glance into the side mirror, "You should come to the Valhalla Lounge. I have my usual table."

"No. I have a date with the city tonight...and last I checked I'm not welcome there."

"Of course you do..." Thor remarked as he passed Loki a wayward glance, "Maybe this time your date will actually involve a woman."

Loki laughed, "Are you suggesting I run into traffic? Not everyone can get hit by a car and meet their future wife."

"I suppose not," Thor grinned, "I only want you to be happy brother."

"And that's where we part ways..." he mused as he pulled up to Asgard Towers, "You and I have very different definitions of happy."

The valet walked over to open Loki's door, but he waved him away, "Just dropping off."

He traced his eyes to the red velvet line around the corner. A crowd had already gathered for the Vahalla Lounge. It was the hottest spot in the city, but then most people didn't know the city like he did. The few times he'd gone his brother had tried to set him up with a doe-eyed number too be-spelled by his charms to see through the trees. He'd dated the good girls, slept with the bad girls, but at the end of the day they were all the same, none of them wanted to play, then again most didn't even know the game.

As Thor closed the passenger side door he pointed at Loki, "You're not going to disappear again."

"No...I'll be around," Loki replied as he sped off down the street, eager to deliver his coup de maître.

As the evening fell around him, covering him in his choice attire of shadows and mystery he knew somewhere in this city there was something worth possessing. He was confident that by the end of the night he'd find his pièce de résistance, a glorious item to add to his collection. The darkness had a way of showing him exactly what he desired.


	3. chapter 2 - the shadow on the window

**chapter 2**

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**~ the shadow on the window ~**

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The watering hole was a somber atmosphere, washed out cops drinking to the good ol'days or trying to forget the wear of the job. The city had turned into a rough place with rampant crime and a thinning force. There weren't enough flatfoots to keep order on these nighttime streets. That was more than enough to make Detective Phil Coulson drink himself to sleep every night, but he had his own demons. He'd sullied his badge, trading in favors for tips on the street. There was a new boss in town, the Hydra Underground. Whoever they were, they were ghosts, fading in and out of cities, leaving chaos and ruin in their wake. He'd honed in on them twice, running elaborate stings to catch them in the act and string them up for their crimes. Both times the tip ran cold and he was left as the martyr, berated and scorned by politicians and the chief of police, as if he had given them a free pass and the key to the city. No the men with power, they paved the way. Opening the city to evil forces, all to line their pockets and cry when the world around them began to crumble. He wished he could clean house, bring down the corrupt lot, but they were above reproach and he was just a low man on the totem pole. Then again two wrongs don't make a right. Someday he'd say it and mean it, but today wasn't that day.

He took a swig of his bourbon and savored in the warm aftermath as it traveled down his throat. As he stared down at his empty glass he caught a distorted glimpse of his reflection. He looked like death, but he felt even worse.

"Another Phil?" the bartender asked as he passed by.

"Yeah," Phil replied as the bartender filled up his glass again and moved to serve someone else, "Leave the bottle..."

The bartender paused to shake his head in disapproval, but he slid the partially empty bottle across the bar top and walked away. It was going to be one of those nights. He'd pay for it in spades in the morning, but the promise of dawn seemed like a lifetime away.

After finishing off the bottle of booze and playing witness to a couple of drunken brawls Phil stumbled from the place. The street was cool, a welcome kiss after the stuffy smoke-filled bar he'd just exited. He stumbled along the sidewalk, passing under the circular spotlights of the occasional lamp, but mostly the walk was in shadow. He eyed every alley he passed and kept a bleary stare on every stranger on the street. It wasn't that he was afraid. It was that he knew what was out there, lurking in the dead of night. Nothing good ever sprung forth from the shadows.

As he came upon the apartment building he stumbled back and read the sign over the secured entrance just to be sure. With a deep breath he went inside and climbed the worn stair treads, hearing glimpses of people's lives from beyond closed doors as he scaled to the fourth floor. When he came to his door he jimmied the key a bit, it always stuck. The super wasn't keen on getting it fixed either. Phil had already complained to him three times. The last with his badge, but a piece of forged metal didn't mean much in this city, not anymore at least.

Shutting the door he flicked on the light and a lamp buzzed to life at the far end of the room. It flickered a bit, never getting very bright. His place wasn't the Ritz, but it damn well was his and having a spit of something to call your own was a small consolation for this crazy messed up thing called life.

It was then that he noticed it, the figure in the corner standing near the tiny window washed with neon light from the dance club across the way. He might have gone for his piece, but it wasn't worth the hassle. He could barely hold himself up let alone take aim. It was then that the figure turned around and Phil felt the lifting weight of relief. They called him Nick 'One-Eyed' Fury. He was a rough and tumble cat, mostly worked security. He and his men guarded the doors of some of the hottest clubs in the city. It meant he walked the thin line between law abiding and law breaking, then again, didn't everyone?

There were a handful of bodies rumored to be his handiwork, but they were low end nobodies, fixers too drugged out to know they were messing with the wrong man. None of them could be traced back to his doorstep. Phil had made sure the cases fell through the cracks. Nick was one of his informants. The man had eyes in every back alley and sewer tunnel. Nothing, and that meant nothing, went on in the city without Nick catching a whisper. He did his usually turn about the room, looking over the same stuff he always did.

"What's buzzin', cousin?" Nick finally said as he came to a stop and straightened his black leather trench coat.

"What are you doing here? You know how much trouble you'll cause if someone saw you come in here?"

"Shit...ain't nobody seen me come in."

Reluctant to believe him Phil went over to his galley kitchen and found the only clean cup left and filled it up with lukewarm tap water. He guzzled it, not bothering to press Nick for more. The man always shared what he wanted when he was good and ready, not a moment before.

"Heard you all put the squeeze on Tony Stark...playing with fire there," Nick laughed as Phil finally turned to look at him, "If you want my two cents worth, it's probably for the best that some of your evidence went missing. You don't wanna mess with the man behind the guns. He arms half the operations on the east coast and everyone in this city, including you coppers. You cut off the supply and every criminal in the chain goes gunning for you lot. Streets would have been stained red."

"Yeah some eager beaver rolled in trying to make his name and went sniffing where he shouldn't. His sergeant put him in his place, but the damage had already been done. Tony Stark's an egomaniac, but he's also big into self-preservation so he let it be, put the squeeze on our supply line though, just to make sure we knew how he felt."

"Lucky cats, all I got to say," Nick shifted then and Phil knew it was coming, the real reason he was here, "Can't stay long, but I've got the low down on a job, thought you'd appreciate the heads-up."

"Well you always know what's going down, got ears all over this city. I'm still waiting for you to deliver me something on the Hydra Underground..."

Nick suddenly laughed, "And you're going to keep on waiting. This relationship is about give and take. Those knuckleheads don't mess around. Last two informants that spilled the beans had a meeting with death and the Hydra Underground made sure it was on time. That there is too much take if you catch my drift."

Phil wasn't going to argue. If he ever got close enough to them they'd probably do him the same way.

"So what's the city whispering about now?"

"Oh, you're going to like this one," Nick laughed before he took a seat in one of the living room chairs, "Spectre is in town. Word has it that he's cashing in, pulling out, calling it quits, or so the streets are saying. This is supposed to be his last heist, so he's trying to go out with a bang."

Phil cringed. This was his last change to cage the bastard and he'd chosen his final adieu at the best possible time. The city was about to celebrate its centennial. There were going to be galas and special exhibits all over town. There was no way of knowing what Spectre was planning to snatch. The city was about to be ripe for the picking.

Nick finally stood and shifted uncomfortably in front of the window. He was hanging around and Phil knew why. With a sigh Phil fished for his wallet, just happy he hadn't sunk his last dime in booze. He pulled out a greenback and slid it across the coffee table.

"Really? That's all you got? I just gave you the tip of a lifetime. A big fish is getting out of the game and you just became poised to catch him before he makes his way to clear blue waters."

Phil clenched his jaw before opening his wallet again and tossing a few more bills onto the table.

"Pleasure my brother," Nick stated as he swiped them up and put them in his pocket.

Just as mysteriously as he entered he left and without much effort Phil stumbled into his bedroom, collapsing on his bed. He was out cold in no time, entertaining dreams of the bust of a lifetime.


	4. chapter 3 - the florentine dagger

**chapter 3**

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**~ the florentine dagger ~**

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The museum was closed, as it was the early hours of dawn when even the sleepless managed to find comfort in their beds. So it was fitting to stand in the center of the blackened exhibit room with only the sterile display cases and hidden security features to keep Ruby company. She'd already nabbed the Florentine Dagger, holding its cold metal handle, the feel of the intricate inlays rough on her fingers. Another was sitting pretty on the wooden holder at the center of the burgundy velvet and glass display. The forgery and the real deal were all where they needed to be. The Florentine Dagger was the Observatory Museum's crowning beauty, on temporary loan for the city's big centennial celebration. She was surprised museums weren't working harder to keep people with sticky fingers at bay. Swiping the priceless artifact had hardly been a challenge, though she had the luxury of a well-crafted plan.

After a moment admiring her handiwork in the shadowy expanse of the exhibit area she caught the faint hint of daylight reaching through the doorway from the windowed lobby nearby. That was her cue, a nod from Mother Nature to hightail it out while she still had a darkened advantage. Slipping the dagger into her cloth duffle the added weight registered on the strap as it pressed snug against her shoulder. Her oxford heels clicked on the marble floor as she turned to leave. They were impractical, but there was no shame in staying classy, even on the job. It also helped that the nightshift guard was deaf as a doornail. The cranky sap should have put in his papers ages ago, but the geezer was too stubborn to retire. No, he'd be forced out and something told her she'd be to blame.

As she made her way out the jimmied side door into the alley she reached up and reattached the bulb in the pendant fixture. It flickered back to life casting a circular spotlight on the side entrance. Everything was right as rain, like she was never there. She shimmied off her long black gloves with a pleased smile as she stuffed them in her bag. Running her bare hands over her black peplum dress she smoothed out the skirt line and straightened the collar.

"Easy-peesy," she declared as she trounced down the darkened corridor with a sway in her hips.

The sun was just beginning to reach the horizon, sending a yellow glow into the murky black heavens. She walked down the flight of stone steps casting her eyes to the empty streets. Suddenly a gentleman on a morning stroll bumped her. The bag in her hands jostled and fell to the ground. She quickly tried to grab it, but the man beat her to it.

"My apologies," he stated as he tipped his hat and handed her back the bag.

She cracked it open as he started to walk away. A huge feeling of relief overcame her when she realized the dagger hadn't been damaged. She glanced back up only to see the man gone and a group of three men approaching. The one in the middle was the museum curator and the other two were flatfoots. Apparently the jig was up. It was such an unsatisfying ending to an exhilarating evening.

"It's like you weren't even trying," Ruby cracked as she handed the curator the bag.

He wasn't pleased with her remark, but it was hardly her fault his system was flawed. Anyone with sticky fingers and half a brain looking to make a name could have snatched it up. She was belittling the act though. It was always easy to steal something. The trick was actually in the getaway. Disappearing into the night and breezing away like a leaf on the wind. That was usually where things went wrong. Nothing separated the bit players from the big time shakers quicker than a pack of cops hot on the trail. Of course that's just what she'd heard. Her adventures in crime always ended at the door with a greeting and a pass off. She was too pretty for life in the slammer. She stuck to the other side of the law, as if there was really much difference. They all played dirty these days, making deals and running angles, whatever they needed to do to come out on top. As if the city had a top. There were so many faces here and gone, trying to make their mark, though that wasn't necessarily true. One name usually kept coming back, like an old friend reminding you that they're still around. Spectre. The thief was tried and true, making an appearance here or there before vanishing without a trace. He'd been missing from the front for sometime, rumors swirled that he'd finally bowed out of the spotlight, but you don't quit the game, the game quits you.

"I'll put together my report. You'll get it before I leave town," she stated, quickly offering them all a bow of her head, "As always, it's been a pleasure gentleman."

Without waiting for a response she sauntered off into the dawn. She had a breeze to catch.

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Loki had called in some favors, pulling plans after hours. He had his eyes set on a target, so now it just came down to the plan. He'd done nothing illegal, yet, but he wanted the anonymity when the cops came sniffing. They'd have to work to nab him and most cops weren't paid enough to give chase into the thirteenth hour. They'd let the trail run cold and hop over to a hot new case, ripe with leads. He slid the rolled sets under his arm as he got out of his Triumph Roadster and grabbed his golden cane before tossing his keys to the valet. As he walked inside he gave pause on the sidewalk to stare up at the gleaming spire of Asgard Towers.

The lobby area was the epitome of decadence, marble clad with dark wood accents and a giant chandelier dripping with crystal. The early morning sun broke through the mullioned windows refracting in the clear stones and casting rainbows across the room. Heimdall stood solemn at the front desk. He was the doorman for Asgard Towers. Nothing got passed him, not the drunkard stumbling through the front doors or the whispers of guests about the shady character in room 202. He saw it all and, most importantly, he made sure it went away.

"Good morning sir," Heimdall acknowledged him with a nod, "You haven't been round in awhile."

"Morning ol' chap. I suppose I haven't. Is my father around?" Loki asked as he gave pause, leaning against the mahogany desk.

"Strolled into work early," Heimdall stated as he paused to offer a greeting to a returning guest, "Your brother is up though, placed a room service order not half an hour ago."

"Ah...though I'd suspect that was probably Lady Jane..."

Heimdall laughed, "I suspect you're right. Thor and his business partners were celebrating another deal last night at the Valhalla Lounge. He mentioned you came into town last evening. I'm surprised you weren't there."

Loki passed him a look as he straightened and headed towards the elevator hall.

"You're right, not your crowd," Heimdall amended with a brief smile, "Shall I ring them up to let them know you're coming?"

"No," Loki called back with a grin as he pressed the elevator call button, "It's more fun when I just appear."

With a faint chime one of the elevator cars opened and he strolled inside. Before the doors had a chance to slide closed a petite blonde number scurried in. She had on a vibrant yellow and white floral dress with tortoise shell cat-eye glasses. Her white gloved hand reached out and tapped the 6th floor button before she passed him a glance. When she finally noticed him her eyes drew wide and her cheeks flushed. He could tell as she moved to stand beside him he was about to be bothered by conversation.

"Are you an architect?" she inquired as she nodded to the blueprints, but didn't give him a heartbeat to reply, "I was a secretary for an architect right out of school. I can type 80 words a minute on an electric typewriter."

Loki smiled, acknowledging her achievement though he didn't rightly care.

"I suppose I could be considered an architect of sorts," he eventually replied, "Though architects create and I'd fancy myself more an architect of chaos."

She appeared vaguely terrified so he flashed another grin. Her response was expected, but that didn't make it any less disappointing.

"I believe this is your stop," he announced as the doors slid open and she was given a brief startle.

He relished in finally being alone as the elevator closed and he leaned against the back wall of the car. It was going to be a bit of a ride and he preferred it in silence. He'd pushed the button for the top floor, the sprawling Valaskjálf penthouse owned by his family with all the best views of the city.

When he finally reached his destination he stepped out into a foyer, which featured a single door flanked by half circular tables with fresh floral arraignments. He tapped on the wooden portal with the head of his cane, waiting patiently outside. He was always welcome, but having an invitation and having a key weren't one and the same.

Jane slowly opened the door with a white chore apron over her high-waist peach colored dress. She appeared to be laughing, a remnant of a conversation she was having with someone just beyond the bend in the hallway, but the instant she saw Loki her demeanor changed. Without missing a beat she slapped him across the cheek and his head turned, reeling from the brisk exchange.

"A pleasure as always dearest Jane," he replied as he turned his head back and nursed his jaw with his free hand.

"When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it. You deserve no better."

He grinned at her fervor, but remained silent. Sometimes the best answer was none.

"Last time you came round you left a mess and Thor was stuck cleaning it up," Jane harshly whispered before she started to move aside, "Let's get one thing clear, if you drag Thor into any trouble you're dragging me into it too and I'll run you down faster than a freight train, brother or no."

Loki grinned, not missing the irony of her threat. Sure, her hitting Thor with her car had been a bit of an accident and his brother emerged with hardly a scrape, but apparently her affinity for striking people with modes of transport was turning into a family affair.

"Have I ever told you how much I like you?" Loki laughed as he straightened and strolled in, "I mean, I really do..."

She narrowed her eyes and offered a scowl, but gave no other retort as she leaned her shoulder into the door to close it with an intentional display of force.

"Is that Loki I hear?" Frigga's voice suddenly called from beyond the bend, "Come join us for breakfast and tell me everywhere you've been."


	5. chapter 4 - assigned to danger

**chapter 4**

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**~ assigned to danger ~**

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Officer Steve Rogers had rolled into the half empty station with a disenchanted sigh. Between nursing hangovers and prepping for the centennial there was no one around. He'd joined the force to make a change, but found a brick wall and a mess of politics he couldn't navigate. It was a dang shame, a disappointment to say the least.

He was sitting pretty in the file room, pushing paper because he'd poked a hornet's nest on his first go round. Tony Stark was an arrogant prick caught up playing both sides. He armed the cops and he armed the robbers, whoever had money to throw his way, and that didn't make him a good guy, but it did make him protected. Someday he'd get what was coming and Steve just hoped he'd be the guy.

A disheveled detective suddenly tapped on the wrought iron window for pickups and drop-offs.

"Where's everyone?" he yawned as he straightened out his tie.

Steve rolled his chair from the filing cabinet to the desk with a shrug, "Your guess is as good as mine..."

"Well, suit-up then, it looks like you're my new partner for this case. I've got a lead," he stated and Steve clamored out of his chair.

"Hot diggity," Steve declared as he emerged from the locked file room and approached the detective.

"Ease up eager beaver..."

"I'm sorry sir, just excited to get back into things."

"You know, I like you kid," he stated as he gave Steve a pat on the shoulder, "You've got heart, but too much heart will wear you down."

Steve shook his head. The advice was genuine, but he couldn't take it. Heart was all he had.

As they walked through the hallway and into the deserted sea of desks they made their way to a small office just off the break room. Detective Phil Coulson was neatly painted on the frosted door pane. A phone suddenly rang from someone's desk and without anyone to answer it the sound echoed eerily through the station. Detective Coulson closed his door, muting the noise only slightly. He waved his hand to the guest seat, but realizing it was occupied by a pile of paper he scooped them up.

"I got a tip on a big fish...Spectre is in town. Supposedly aims to pull a big job. I want him Officer Rogers. I want him bad. I'm tired of all these crooks slipping through my fingers. You help me nab him and there may be Captain in your future. Higher up the food chain is where you'll make some change."

Steve pulled to attention at the news. He wanted to help, but before he could ask what needed to be done the Detective continued.

"We need an in," Detective Coulson mused as he sat behind his paper strewn desk, "Spectre calls in favors and pulls some strings on his bigger jobs, even he can't do them alone. Dang nabbit! We don't have time for a proper set-up...This sting is as good as made and we haven't even begun."

The room fell quiet and Steve suddenly had a thought.

"You know...I was at O'Malley's last night and ran into two guys from the 307. Normally I wouldn't have talked with them, but we all weren't drinking, said they'd caught some overtime in an early morning shift and needed to stay sharp. One of the museums wanted to test their security before the big centennial so they hired this dame, if you can believe it."

"You go to the bars and don't drink?" Detective Coulson abruptly asked, as he'd clearly been sidetracked by the odd statement. Steve had just delivered him a possible in and he was focused on his drinking habits.

"Course not. I'm performing with my barbershop quartet. We're getting pretty good, but most of us don't have the vocal chops to make it big."

Detective Coulson raised a brow, but must have decided it was best to get to the heart of the matter, "Can we trust her then? Is she on the straight and narrow?"

"In this city? Is anyone?" Steve pondered, but immediately side-stepped when Detective Coulson regarded him with narrowed eyes, "She's a thief gone straight, or so they say. It's all quiet on the front. There've been no alarms so she must have delivered the goods and walked away. Around here that's close to saintly."

"Well, get on the horn. Get everything you can from the 307 and the museum. We've got a thief to intercept..."

With an eager nod of his head Steve started towards his desk.

"Do you suppose we can catch a thief with a thief?" Steve inquired just before he shut the door.

"Don't know, but it beats doing nothing."

Steve grinned as he turned away, "Yeah, I suppose it does."

[] [] []

Ruby was packing her bags. She wanted to get out of this joint before evening. She had places to be, people to see. No...That was a lie. She just needed to leave. Staying in one place for too long made her crazy. She wanted a new horizon, maybe a new adventure if she could swing it. Suddenly a knock echoed from the door and she came to a halt. If there was one thing she knew, it was that uninvited company was never a good thing.

She passed a quick glance in the mirror, scrunching the brunette curls that fell at her jawline and dusting off her baby blue swing dress. Digging into her cosmetics bag she reapplied her red lipstick and with a quick rub of her lips she made it to the door just before the knocks grew impatient.

"Yes?" she asked with a charming smile as she cracked it open.

"Ruby? Ruby Wright?" the flatfoot in the hallway correctly inquired as he removed his homburg. His entire look gave him away.

"And you are?" she replied, losing her pleasant demeanor because she'd been tracked down by the law.

"Ah..." he fished around his rumpled jacket pockets before he produced a shiny badge, "Detective Phil Coulson. May I come in?"

Ruby pressed her hand on her waist as she stared at him sternly. She didn't want to let him in, but she knew if he really wanted to he could make trouble so she stepped aside.

"Thank you," he began as she shut the door, "I'm in need of your assistance..."

"You're talking to the wrong gal," she calmly stated as she continued packing her bag, "I've got a date with a train and I don't aim to be late."

The Detective reached over and picked up the ticket on the table by her clutch before she could snatch it away. He had a keen eye and it made him nosy.

"Looks like an open end pass. You could leave today...you could leave tomorrow...I'd say that'd give you at least enough time to listen."

Ruby paused. He had her there. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed she gave packing a rest and turned her attention to him. He had thirty seconds to spill and if he didn't say something she liked she'd be out the door, so to speak. She didn't have time to sit in limbo with the locals.

"You walk the walk, you talk the talk, but you're not really on that side of the law. It tells me you got your heart in the game, but your head in reality. I want you to help me nail a thief. "

"And who's the lucky gent you're clamoring to meet?" she sarcastically inquired, even though her interest hadn't been peaked.

"His name is Spectre, have you heard of him?"

She froze and tapped her peep toe pumps, "Is that a joke? You don't trap someone like Spectre. He owns this city."

"We aren't going to trap him. You are."

Laughing she stood and went back to packing as she collected a few wrapped pairs of silk stalkings from the top drawer of the dresser and slid them in a suitcase pocket, "Me? Now I know you've gone and left your marbles at home."

The Detective suddenly moved forward and gripped her shoulders, drawing her to attention.

"Now you listen here," he began as she met his crazed stare, "I'd hoped you'd help me because it's the right thing to do, but I can be more convincing if you need it. What will I find if I go digging? You play the line, but how many times have you crossed it?"

"Is that a threat?"

"Doll, I don't make threats..." he stated as he finally let go and though he was serious she could see a hint of guilt in his eyes.

He was a good guy willing to do bad things for the right reasons. Maybe that made him noble, but she knew it really just made him dangerous.

"I need your help," he casually stated again as he nervously slid his hat round in his hands.

Ruby eyed him, still feeling rattled from his sudden outburst. With a nod he made his way to the entry hall and passed her another glance.

"We'll talk tomorrow."

"I didn't say yes," she exclaimed as he walked out.

"Yeah, but you didn't say no either," he countered as the door slammed and the sound resounded chillingly through the room.

[] [] []

Thor awoke to a dull throbbing in his temple. He'd gone a bit overboard the night before and he was paying for it in spades that morning. He'd deserved the joyous evening though, they all had. Jane even said as much as she'd eventually ducked off to bed, intent on leaving Thor to the continuing celebration, but reminding him that they had plans for tomorrow. The occasion had been fueled by a recent expansion of Mjolnir Electric. They had managed to conquer the only remaining holdout on the eastern seaboard. The company takeover had been finalized that afternoon and the ink didn't even have time to dry before they were holding a champagne toast to their victory.

As he padded into the dining room, making an attempt to straighten his tie, Jane greeted him with a shake of her head and a fresh cup of joe. He tried to convey a thank you, but it came out a sleepy mumble so he took a seat at the table instead. He didn't need to ask if Loki had turned up yet. Judging by his mother's chipper demeanor he had. The two were thick as thieves. Thor wasn't jealous, but he did often wonder what manner of conversation they shared.

He narrowed his eyes as he glanced around, noting rather quickly that Loki had vanished again. Loki was clearly plotting something, though that was obvious because he was in town. He blew in like a subtle fog and when he left you were usually left with ghost stories about what may or may not have happened. It was no secret that he flirted with the dangerous underbelly of the city. He was a strange mixture of good and bad that made him hard to predict. Thor decided right then and there he'd uncover his latest plot. Enough was enough.

Jane suddenly stood, making a direct move for the coffee and as Thor took a sip that turned to air he realized he wanted more.

"Another..." he began as he held out his cup, but it slipped from his fingers before he could manage a please and thank you.

"Honestly..." Jane scolded as she passed a stare to the white shards strew across the parquet floor, "I would say go back to bed, but if you slept any longer the day would be gone."


	6. chapter 5 - the red menace

**chapter 5**

* * *

**~ the red menace ~**

* * *

Detective Phil Coulson stood outside the headquarters of The Daily Bugle. He was about to entertain a horrible notion, giving a journalist a bonafide scoop. Those bottom feeders took any story they could run with, sullied plenty of good cops and glamorized plenty of robbers. It made him sick to know how far they could twist the truth for a good headline. Selling papers was all that mattered; when all that mattered should have been truth. Course he was one to talk. He'd come to them to perpetuate a lie and that fact was weighing heavy on his shoulders. He had to set his reservations aside though. He needed them, as much as he hated to admit it. He needed them to sell the story of a stolen dagger that was actually sitting pretty in its display case. He'd gotten on the horn after his encounter with Ruby and told Officer Rogers to round up as many cops as he could before taking them down to the Observatory Museum to quietly confiscate the Florentine Dagger on the grounds that it was part of a criminal matter. It was all for show, but some time in the evidence locker would make it seem like it'd up and disappeared. He needed the lie to become the truth and he was taking the final step to see it through.

He made his way passed the turnstile doors and eyed the dame at the desk. She flashed him a smile, but raised an index finger to give him pause. She was on the phone; talking in that pleasant business tone that dame's had a knack for doing. As she put it back on the receiver she leaned against the desk.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked with a bat of her lashes.

"No. The names Detective Phil Coulson and I got a lead worth spilling."

She wrinkled her nose, appeared to be thinking, and gave a quick flip through an appointment book on the counter.

"Well it looks like most of our reporters are chasing down leads, but you know what, looks like we have a junior reporter in. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, just get me a meeting..."

She phoned on ahead and after a few minutes she flashed him a smile, "Head on up to the third floor. He'll meet you when you get off the elevator."

"Thank you," he quickly stated as he briskly made his way there.

He should have taken his sweet time though because it appeared the 'junior' reporter wasn't even junior. He looked like a scrawny kid who'd barely hit puberty.

"Hi. Detective Coulson?"

"Yes," he replied as they reluctantly shook hands, "Listen kid, is there anyone else I can talk to? I mean no offense, but you look about ten and this scoop is a cover story."

"Well if that's how you feel, but I'll be square...you won't hit this evening's edition and it sure won't be tomorrow's news."

The kid was right. His hand had been forced.

"Fine, but you muck this up and I'll wring you..."

The kid interrupted with a wave of his hand as he showed Phil to his 'office,' which looked a lot like a storage room with a desk. Especially sad when he compared it to the community newsroom, sprinkled with personal areas and messy tables.

"Please, have a seat. The name's Peter Parker, by the way."

Phil flashed a smile for the sake of civility, but he really just wanted to drive to the point. This entire operation was a shanty mess and he needed to make it work.

"Listen, Peter, I got tip and it's real juicy. Apparently the Florentine Dagger has been nicked from the Observatory Museum...by a dame..."

"You don't say..." Peter commented as he pulled out a notepad and started to scribble down the facts, "Say, why are you leaking this?"

"The museum wants to keep it under wraps, a matter of pride or some such nonsense. I say toss pride. Others need to be warned. We've got a centennial unveiling and this city's about to be ripe for the picking."

"That's a nice line, mind if I use it?"

Phil had been in the throes of his speech, which he'd planned out real nice in his head, when Peter interrupted. It threw off his game.

"Sure..." Phil responded with a fluster, "Anyway, my worry is that Spectre is going to make a showing. I want to set him up. I want to reel him in. I want to catch him. What better way than with a dame? A challenge and distraction rolled into one..."

"Wait, you've already nicked the dame haven't you? Flipped her for a bigger fish?"

Apparently he'd been too transparent and now he couldn't back track, "Yeah, but you print that and I'll pummel you..."

"Tell you what; mum's the word if you cut me in on the Spectre bust."

Phil wasn't about to cave in to threats, so he played it off, "For the headline I was thinking the Red Menace..."

He couldn't pretend like the title hadn't been partly inspired by her moniker.

"That's a horrible name. This is a woman not a communist threat..." Peter commented as he tapped the edge of his pencil against his chin.

"Well how'd you come at Spectre?" Phil finally asked in an attempt to move the conversation forward.

"Well that was the chief's doing. Way he saw it, he's everywhere and nowhere, like a phantom, goes where he wants without leaving a trace."

"No wonder half the city pretends to be him and the other half swoons over him, you had to go and make Spectre like a star on the silver screen."

Peter shrugged, "Aren't they though? Fortune, danger, and fame. Sounds like the perfect plot for the next big cinema showing."

"Fine. What did you have in mind?" Phil finally caved with an exasperated sigh.

"How about Ruby Red? It sounds exotic and passionate..."

Phil cringed and tried his best to divert it, being too close to the real deal and all, "We're selling a thief, not woman's negligees."

"No we're selling a female thief and inherently there's something suggestive about a woman who flirts with trouble. Red is a nice color though, littered with hidden meaning, so you had the right idea. You want Spectre intrigued, make her intriguing. The Red Menace sounds like he's going to meet up with a seventy-five year old communist cranker. Now, Ruby Red, that's a leading lady..."

Phil rolled his eyes and gave him a toss of his hand, there was just no arguing, "Eh...you do your job. Just remember to get it out there. I want Ruby Red to be all the whispers on tomorrow's streets."

"Remember, we get an exclusive on Spectre," Peter called after him, as if that had ever been part of the deal.

"You'll take what I give you and like it," Phil replied as he disappeared through the swinging newsroom doors and into the elevator hallway.

He was ready to call it a day. He'd done all he could with the mess he'd been given. All he could do now was pray, pray that Peter made the story, pray that Spectre took the bait, and pray that Ruby played it straight, but dang she was bound to be riled about the headline. He ducked into his favorite tavern. It was early yet and there was only a spattering of the usual's, paying homage to the bottom of a bottle. He slid into his stool and tapped the bar top.

"What'll it be Phil?" the bartender inquired as he wiped his hands with a worn white towel.

"The usual...and what's the special?"

"Between yous and me," the bartender whispered, "You don't want the special. I'll order you up a burger and fries."

"Thanks Lou."

His brain was so preoccupied, running through the details of the sting, he hardly noticed that he'd already received and eaten his meal. He was now sitting with an empty tumbler trying to make sense of the events he'd just set into motion. So much of it was going to happen on the fly. Everything he had control over had been completed and he didn't like that one bit. Too much of this was counting on luck and that was something he didn't have much of.

"Another Phil?" Lou asked as he passed by.

"Yeah," Phil replied as the bartender moved to fill up his glass, but he stopped him, "You know what...I'm good."

Lou paused with a raised brow, but offered up a smile as he moved to serve another patron.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Phil called with a wave as he slapped some bills on the bar top and made his way outside.

The night air was still warm, as the sun had just set. It was a strange sensation walking the streets with a slew of passerby's still lingering. He didn't know what fueled him or why, but he chalked it up to that green Officer Rogers. Maybe some of his heart had rubbed off on him. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Naw...maybe I'm just tired," he stated out loud as he strolled on home and went to bed.

[] [] []

Ruby had paced around her room and tossed all night in bed. Against her better judgment she was sticking around to help that delusional flatfoot, Detective Coulson, with his fools' errand. Of course in the wee hours of the morning she'd concluded that having him give chase and cause trouble was a worse scenario. Then as she'd sauntered down to breakfast she'd doubled back and figured caging a Spectre was bound to get her spooked. She just couldn't win. She huffed as she took a bite of her toast with jam just as an older gentleman took the table across from her. He asked for black coffee, pancakes, and a side of sausage then went to his morning paper. She about choked on her tea as she read the headline. That two-bit, dirty timing, low life...

"Are you alright miss?" a passing waiter inquired.

"Peachy," she smiled despite herself.

That was her name, not some cute or mysterious moniker, not some fabricated caricature to sell to the masses, that was straight up her name and she was not pleased. She quietly fumed amid present company, not waiting to cause a scene.

"Excuse me miss, would you happen to be Ruby?" the same waiter inquired on a second go round.

She cringed as the gent across the way gave her a curious glance from his newspaper. He passed an eye to the front page, a bit puzzled, but went back to reading.

"Yes, that would be me."

"So sorry to disturb your breakfast, but it seems a gentleman has been trying to call up to your room. He phoned the front desk, claimed it was terribly urgent."

Detective Coulson...oh, he was about to get an earful.

"Oh, no trouble. I'd be obliged to take it."

He smiled and escorted her to the bar, where a black metal phone with brass accents sat on the mahogany top, looking out of place, but put there just for her.

"I oughta just hang up now..." she seethed into the receiver without waiting for confirmation that it was him and a few people looked up from their meals, "I...I am none too pleased with how this was handled."

"Listen I know. I'm sorry. It was out of my hands," Detective Coulson apologized on the other end, but it hardly made up for anything, "So the way I figure it, you should probably make yourself available around town. I hear the Ice Lounge caters to a fair share of shady figures, might be helpful if you're one of them."

"Fine I'll go there tonight," she replied with a smug drop in her shoulders.

"Not alone you aren't. No offense, but I don't trust anyone outside of myself. I'll pick you up at eight."

"I'm not going with you," she laughed and she could see his annoyed face even over the phone, "I stroll in with a cop and everyone in the place would scatter. You don't want me to go alone, fine, but I need someone fresh faced and naive enough to not scare off the fish."

Detective Coulson paused and she figured she had him stumped until he mused, "I think I know someone..."

"Of course you do," she sighed as her attempt to go it alone failed.

"I'll have him phone you, say around seven, you can work out the kinks."

"Yeah, kinks..." she mumbled to the buzz of the dial tone, as he'd apparently hung up.

She glared at the phone as she put it down. She didn't like being pushed around. It was a matter of dignity more than anything. She didn't approve of being anyone's pawn, especially when all the players appeared to be engaged in a different version of the game.

With a smile and a nod to the waiter she went back to her table, catching another suspicious glance from her distant breakfast companion. He reminded her of the headline mess and she resolved herself to think of something less dismal. Apparently she needed to go shopping. She'd failed to pack for a night out on the town, though she had to amend that, she'd packed for a different kind of night on the town. This one unfortunately was going to take a bit more primping.


	7. chapter 6 - my favorite brunette

**chapter 6**

* * *

**~ my favorite brunette ~**

* * *

They were having a spell in the sitting room, though Loki had mostly faded to the background just listening to their chatter. He'd made himself scarce that morning hoping to hash out some details, only emerging because he'd promised lunch with his mother. She'd always been more understanding of his off-kilter endeavors and eager to hear of his adventures, though he tended to annotate them for the sake of necessity. He didn't need her feeling like an accessory after-the-fact.

The truth was he was planning to go after the star sapphire. It was going to be the crowning spectacle of The Vault, an upscale gallery in the heart of downtown. He still needed to drop by the exhibit, but he wanted it to be closer to the centennial so he could get a proper idea of the security. The only thing he was sure about was that it was going to be a large scale operation, though he'd resolved that it was going to be like any other heist; at least he planned to play it out that way.

"Have you seen this?" Thor suddenly asked as he slid Loki the newspaper, "I'd ask if it was you, but it's clearly a dame."

Loki glanced down to read the headline in his lap, Ruby Red Nicks Dagger. His interest had been peaked enough to pick it up and read further. Apparently there was a new player in town and they were trying to hone in on his patch. His eyes traced to the black and white drawing of the Florentine Dagger. If nothing else she was to be commended on her taste.

"You're forgetting one important fact..."

Thor raised a brow.

"Red isn't my color," Loki grinned before adding on the sly, "But I believe it is yours..."

"I do believe your brother just called you a dame," Jane's voice broke in as she came up behind Thor and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"You know I believe he did," Thor agreed as he passed Loki a narrowed glare.

"You promised to take me to Rutherford's today," she added without missing a beat, "That telescope I wanted is on sale. I think it would be marvelous on our balcony."

Thor captured her hand before she had a chance to gather her coat and purse, planting a gentle kiss on the back. She smiled as he let go and disappeared down the hall. He went to follow, but Loki gave him reason to pause.

"I won't be around this evening," Loki casually commented as he went back to the article.

"Another date with the city?" Thor teased as he grabbed his coat out of the hall closet.

Loki's green eyes flicked up, but he only indulged the remark with a smile. The one time Thor's jab about finding a dame would have worked he had to go and get it right.

That night he planned to hit up the usual spot, hoping his hunch would pay dividends. There were a number of classy joints around town with flashy décor, wealthy patrons, and soulful music, but there was only one where you could find yourself among questionable company. It was called the Ice Lounge, drenched in shades of white and blue and touched with hints of crystal. Most of the regulars were simple Joes, but occasionally someone would roll in who liked to tap dance on the line, playing between good and bad like a change of clothes. They were usually Loki's favorite kind of company, but that night he was looking for a specific type.

Loki sat at the bar with a dirty martini in crystal stemware, not so much drinking as looking the part of a paying patron. He swirled the glass, mixing the clear liquid and green olive as the big band started to belt out a sultry number. The swigger next to him perked up, momentarily forgetting he was only there to drown out his sorrows in the harsh company of alcohol and a cloud of cheap tobacco. It was then that Loki saw her, the gorgeous brunette in the red satin dress. Her blue eyes traced the room, long lashes fluttering with every bat of her lids. She was all leg as she stepped forward with a rhythmic sway to her hips. His eyes followed her through the mirrored bar as she walked behind him. Her red lips pursed slightly as she caught his stare, flashing a smile, but ending it there. Now that was a dame and by the end of the night they'd be dancing.

[] [] []

Ruby walked in as the center of attention, though that had been her aim. Head-to-toe she was done up in red; pointed pumps, long satin dress, manicured nails, and gleaming lips. The ensemble had cost her a pretty penny and she'd known going in Detective Coulson wasn't likely to comp her a cent. It was funny how she seemed to be doing all the work in this arraignment. Take that back, it wasn't funny in the least.

"You do this much?" she asked as she sat down at the table across from the handsome clean shaven man in the navy suit, crisp white collared shirt, and red tie.

He'd given her a vague inclination of what he'd be wearing over the phone, but he was easy to spot without it. Detective Coulson hadn't been joking when he'd insisted he had just the gent in mind. He was the most innocent looking thing in the room, though that wasn't saying much. The furniture seemed more intimidating, might catch a jab from a table or get the trip from a chair.

"No, Ma'am," he replied with a nervous smile as he looked around the joint, seeming more out of place the longer he stared.

"First tip," she said with a smile back as she reached across the table and gave him a pat on his hand, "Don't call me Ma'am. Second tip, relax. You're making me nervous and I ain't the nervous type."

He laughed as he straightened out his tie and rested his arm on the back of his chair. It was obvious he had never been there before, not that she expected it, but with his boyish smile and good-guy charm he'd float under the radar just fine.

"What's your name?"

"Off...Steve Rogers..."

She commended him on his save.

"Well, Steve, what's a girl got to do to get a dance?" she prodded, mostly because if they sat much longer the conversation would run stale, leaving two strangers stuck at a table.

Without missing a beat he stood from his chair and offered his hand. With a smile she took it. Of course it prompted a few peculiar stares from surrounding gents, wondering what he had that they didn't, but that was the usual reception in a place like this, everyone sitting back, quietly eyeing everyone else's business and not making some of their own.

"Say you're a ducky shincracker," Steve suddenly declared as they started to trance around the dance floor.

She had to stifle back a giggle. It would have ruined the air she was trying to create. Suddenly his eyes traced up to the stage and his color noticeably drained. She was about to ask him what was wrong, but she followed his stare instead. A woman in a black sequin gown had walked to the center. She was petite with fiery red hair and an aura of intrigue.

"You know her?" Ruby casually inquired, not wanting to pry, but succumbing to curiosity.

"No...well, yes...well, I know 'of' her," he stammered.

"Do tell..." she pressed, as his response had invoked a sense of mystery and mostly the flicker of a titillating story.

"Her name's Natasha Romanova, but she goes by the stage name Black Widow. She's a singer from the USSR, a communist defector who's got enough skeletons in her closet to populate a cemetery. I didn't realize she was headlining this lounge..."

She was curious how he'd come to familiarize himself with her skeletons, but it was hardly the time or the place to delve. It was strange as they continued to dance because she could swear the woman's eyes had trained on them, pale blue and following their every move.

"You know if you stay after hours you could probably meet her..."

"No. No. Absolutely not. I don't want to stir the pot. I've caused enough trouble already. This is my ticket out of the backwaters and onto the streets."

"Trust me I think that pot wants to be stirred, if you catch my drift."

Judging by his puzzled look he didn't, but when his eyes widened she knew he'd connected the dots. With a laugh she suddenly felt a cool hand slide across her back.

"I believe this next dance is mine..." a seductively proper voice clipped in and Steve was too stunned to object.

Suddenly the band began to play Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. The beautiful mix of clarinet and trumpet carried through the room. Ruby's mystery dancer spun her into his arms and she drowned in a sea of emerald eyes.

"What's your name honey?" he asked as they swept across the dance floor and the endearment oozed with as much appeal as its amber namesake.

He was light on his feet and moved liked a vision. He came from money. It reeked in every one of his mannerisms. Even without hearing his spiel she knew he was a predator, hungry and insatiable, on the prowl. The way they'd begun to move, the look in their eyes, like a couple of wild animals. It scared her how quickly she'd fallen for his spell.

"What's yours?" she quipped back with the flash of a smile.

"So we're going to play that game are we?" he remarked with a grin, a captivating gesture that spread deviously across his features.

"You initiated it."

"I always do..." his whispered as the red haired crooner on the stage began to sing with a low tone that went with the mood.

_"I stand at your gate and the song I sing is of moonlight._

_ I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night._

_ The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade."_

"Are you here with that square?" he inquired as his face brushed her hair.

"He has a handsome face, that's got to count for something."

_"The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming._

_ My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?_

_ I bring you and sing you a Moonlight Serenade."_

"What's the good of a handsome face," he smiled as he dipped her and quickly drew her back up into his arms, "If he can't leave you breathless."

"I don't want to be breathless..."

"The flush of your cheeks and your racing pulse have told a different story."

_"So don't let me wait, come to me tenderly in the June night._

_ I stand at your gate and I sing you a song in the moonlight,_

_ A love song, my darling, a Moonlight Serenade."_

The song had stopped, but they were both still swaying.

"Besides," he grinned, "I don't think your 'friend' would understand your nighttime interests."

She felt herself blush at his suggestive innuendo. Most dames would have slapped him, but she wanted to see how it played.

"I know who you are, hard to miss, you're dripping Ruby Red," he grinned as his eyes traced her up and down after he released her from a spin, "Come see me when you're ready for a real score. I think the only thing you're missing is a flashy gem."

"You know...I think you're right. A gal could always use a little sparkle," she joked as she tried to read if he was the real deal.

He handed her a card and walked away with a knowing smirk. He was good and he knew it. She turned the rectangle paper in her hand. It was expensive, egg-shell with a satin finish and embossed gold lettering.

**Loki Laufeyson, President**

**Nine Realms Travel**

**500 1st and Main**

**"Gateway to the World"**

She smiled to herself. There were a handful of millionaires in the world, usually attached to a family dynasty of power and prestige. People so rich they could do everything or nothing, it didn't really matter. She'd just met one of them and she was curious if he was for real or playing an angle to get some action on the side. It was hardly the first time a man pulled a line, but his was a doozie. Masquerading as Spectre was a surefire way to wind up in a heap of trouble.

"Was that him? Was that Spectre?" Steve whispered as he came up behind her and she gave a jump as he startled her from her trance.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so. Seems like a wealthy gent imitating, but I'll follow it up, see where it leads," she let out a sigh, as she'd just made up her mind that he was in fact Spectre.

"Are you okay?" Steve suddenly asked as he offered his arm.

She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and forced a smile, "Yes, I'm fine."

Even before she said it she knew it was a stone cold lie. She'd found danger in the form of a specter and his name was Loki.


	8. chapter 7 - strangers in the night

**chapter 7**

* * *

**~ strangers in the night ~**

* * *

Natasha Romanova had noticed him the second she walked on stage. Sure there were always familiar faces in the crowd, regulars who took a liking to her voice and her taste in melodies, but his was a face she was certain she'd never see again. He'd been dancing with a dame in red when she came out for her set. She'd done a double take, trying to suss out the mirage, but surprisingly they both still stood. They were together, but not 'together.' It was the kind of distinction only a woman would catch, but it was made concrete when another gent breezed in and swept her off her feet quite literally. Then like that they were gone, a figment of a memory floating on by, reminding her of a previous life she'd forsaken, but not forgotten.

"Tony is out sick so Marko is standing in," the trumpet player whispered to her as the song came to an end with a round of applause, "He doesn't know the new song. Can we swap it out for an old one?"

"Gloomy Sunday..." Natasha quietly replied and it garnered a look.

The dark melody had been axed by the Ice Lounge owner because, as he put it, it ruined the mood. She'd take the heat for it. She always would. Then a lone clarinet set the tone as the song began to play. She belted out the words with an unspoken sadness.

"_Sunday is gloomy,_

_My hours are slumberless._

_Dearest, the shadows_

_I live with are numberless..._"

In another time she was an agent of the USSR, part of the founding of the spy game when governments realized real wars were waged in back alley whispers and midday handoffs at crowded cafes. Intelligence was the board and agents were the pieces, if only the game was really that simple. She'd been recruited slowly, a mention here, a request there, just to see if she was willing. Her profession placed her in the perfect position, singing at some of the most elite lounges and brushing shoulders with some of the most powerful men. Everything had been fine, all paper and eavesdropping, but then the game changed and before she realized it she was taking out targets in posh nightclubs. A black widow always kills her partners, so somehow the transition seemed fitting, but every skeleton in her closet had a name and, good or bad, she couldn't forget them. Soon enough her memory became a problem, so she became a problem. They'd turned on her, as she knew they would. So she did the only thing she could. She looked for an out and she found it in glorious form, a plot of spies, murder, and intrigue, but that's a classified tale, blacked out in both paper and memory. Six months later she was sitting pretty in this city, a communist defector trying to mask her past, with a team of officers keeping watch, just until she settled in.

"_Darling, I hope that_

_My dream never haunted you._

_My heart is telling you,_

_How much I wanted you._

_Gloomy Sunday._"

Then like the memory the song drew to an end, but the memory wasn't really gone. She knew that then because she'd seen him again, a stranger in the night, Officer Steve Rogers, a golden man with a golden voice. He'd been part of the night watch, keeping tabs on her safety, his very first gig as an officer of the law. He'd helped her with her accent and gave her tips about the city. They'd stayed up all hours singing, until protection had been withdrawn and she was left singing all alone. That painted the wrong picture though, she wasn't the brokenhearted...she was the breaker.

The more she thought about him, recalling his sharp navy suit and the honesty in his smile, the more she was sure he was just a figment of her past haunting her. He was too good for a shady joint like this. In fact, he had been too good for her...

[] [] []

There was something satisfying about the hook. The moment you realize that you've just drawn someone else into your game. Loki knew, without a doubt, that's just what he'd done. She'd played coy, but her eyes had given her away. Lovely Ruby, a gem in her own right...

He stood in the grand lobby of Asgard Towers realizing he needed to make arrangements to show his face at the office. It was a delayed regret that he'd passed her his card as a point of contact. As he headed to greet Heimdall he heard the click of heels, though he was just being wistful, he turned to observe their wearer. There she stood, dripping in red. He couldn't contain his grin at the irony of her sudden appearance. He should have known though, a classy lady wouldn't have stayed anywhere else.

"I do believe you're stalking me..." he called from afar, startling her to attention as her blue eyes traced over to him, "If you wanted a midnight tumble all you had to do was ask."

Immediately a strange mixture of amusement and annoyance spread across her features, only broken by the shock of his innuendo. He loved that he had that effect on people. He loved that he had that effect on her.

She came forward with a slinky stride, fittingly seductive in her red satin dress. The dim light of their first meeting hardly did her justice. Her long lashes and soft features were only upstaged by her mysterious allure.

"Well since we've had this second chance meeting I might was well inquire if you're interested," he offered a double edged explanation.

"In what?" she suddenly smiled, "You or your proposition?"

"Both," he unabashedly replied and took some joy in the rosy hue that washed across her cheeks.

She seemed to be having an inner dialogue, hung up on some element he couldn't predict.

"I'll take your proposition," she finally admitted, "Though I hardly think this is the place..."

"Quite right...tomorrow then. Meet me in the lobby at 9 o'clock, unless you'd rather me pick you up at your room?"

She narrowed her eyes, "The lobby will suffice. I could do without you knowing the latter."

"I look forward to our next meeting then..." he stated as he captured her hand, planting a quick kiss before she could withdraw it.

"You're good, I'll give you that," she commented with a smile as he watched her walk away.

Loki turned to see Heimdall eying him with a contained grin.

"Not a word..." Loki calmly stated as he pointed at the innocent looking doorman.

"My lips are sealed," he simply responded as Loki made his way to the elevators.

As he got into an empty car a hand slid in between the doors before they could close. Then to Loki's dismay Thor slipped inside with an amused twinkle in his eyes, not bothering to contain his chuckle. Loki did his best to ignore it as he reached out and pressed the button for the penthouse.

"Now I've finally figured it out..." Thor began as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall.

"What are you rambling on about?" Loki sighed.

"The city is a dame. You've been seeing a number on the side," Thor grinned and raised a hand to stop Loki from commenting, "And before you deny it...I saw her, she was hard to miss being a vision in red. You had a midnight rendezvous didn't you? So when do we get to meet her?"

"Hopefully, never. I don't need you lot scaring her away," Loki joked, trying to brush off the inconvenient fact that Thor had seen them together.

"Please, if she's staying round your company we'd hardly be a scare."

"I do believe you just tried to insult me," Loki laughed as he watched his brother shift uncomfortably.

"Yeah, well, consider it payback for calling me a dame..."


	9. chapter 8 - scene of the crime

**chapter 8**

* * *

**~ scene of the crime ~**

* * *

Loki had slipped out early, welcoming the dawn as he walked the city streets. He wasn't much of a sleeper, too many thoughts tinkering away in his head, but mostly he wasn't much for twenty questions. Thor was too transparent to keep much to himself, before the end of breakfast he'd spill the beans after prodding from both Jane and his mother. Loki would have to face the music sooner or later, but he much preferred later. Right now, well, he had work to do.

As he came upon the entrance to Asgard Towers he leaned against the lofty stone column framing one side of the windowed lobby. He tapped his cane as he occasionally passed a glance inside.

"Care for your car, sir?" the valet called as he waited.

"Yes, please."

Through the windows he finally saw her, stepping out into the lobby. Ruby looked delicately proper in a green cotton dress, fittingly stunning in his favorite color, though he much preferred her drenched in red. Her eyes gave her away as they suspiciously surveyed the room. There was a razor's edge beneath the look, but clearly no one would notice it aside from him and that suited him just fine. He raised his cane and tapped it gently on the glass. The knocking brought her attention, as well as, Heimdall's stare. It was to be expected though; nothing got passed his observant eyes. Slowly she made her way outside and he pushed off his stone perch.

"You said the lobby," she pointed out before he could bid her good morning.

"I lied," he smiled as he offered his arm and she slid her hand into the crook.

"This is not a good beginning..."

"Beginning?" he laughed, "And here I'd thought we were just recovering from an interlude."

"And what exactly gave you that idea?"

"The come-hither look you passed me when we first met..."

"Oh, in the mirror, at the Ice Lounge, that was you?" she joked.

He grinned as he escorted her to his green Triumph Roadster. She slid across the tan upholstery into the passenger seat and he could feel her eyes following him as he walked to the driver's side.

He flashed her a smile as he sat beside her, her baby blues still glued, "See anything you like?"

She laughed then and shook her head, not venturing to provide him an answer.

They sped down the boulevard; top down, wind in their hair. She shifted her gaze to the sidewalk, studying the masses heading to work, toiling away at normal lives. He wondered what she thought of them. Did she envy their routine and the dependability of their lives? Or did she lament their tight schedules and false freedom, slaves to a world of rules and expectations? It had be the latter, they'd hardly have found each other's company if it wasn't.

"We're here..." he calmly declared and he came to a stop in front of The Vault, a gleaming golden art nouveau building at the very center of the city.

The structure used to be a bank, but time saw its vision change. It now stood as a high end gallery for posh people with snobbish tastes. The outdoor displays advertised the centennial gala. The sensation of the evening was set to be the star sapphire.

"Of course we are..." she suddenly laughed and he easily guessed why.

He got out of his car and tossed the valet his keys. Her response was hardly keen, though it was a hard place to crack on a normal day so the centennial launched it into a whole different ballgame.

"You must really want this gem," she finally remarked as he opened her door and offered his hand to help her over the sidewalk curb.

"Oh, I do," he cooed as he gently shut the door and they sauntered their way inside.

Everything was gold leaf, marble, and mahogany, expensive to the point of gaudy. The grand entry still read bank, but the side rooms were unequivocally gallery with white walls and floors. The main display area was nestled between the sweeping staircases that led up to a circular overlook and a slew of executive offices. The doorway to the main room was a long colonnade of carved arches, dramatically appropriate and perfectly framing a display in the center of the white washed room. They'd already begun set-up for the belle of the ball, the star sapphire, though she wasn't quite ready for her appearance. For the sake of keeping the gallery open there was still artwork on the walls, likely to come down on the eve of the gala, after all, there was only one star in the show. The atmosphere was quiet and their footfalls echoed off the cold stone floor. He drew Ruby into his confidence with a hushed voice and the occasional smile to a passing patron or guard.

"Last time I hit this place I had to call in too many favors, almost got caught. The cops went sniffing and some of my associates had trouble taking the heat. Figured this time around someone like you and someone like me would equal an easier score."

"That's some strange math you're doing," she commented with a snarky tone as her eyes tore away from the empty display and she moved to view a painting.

"Are you making fun of me?" Loki asked as he casually walked closer and stood shoulder to shoulder pretending to give the renaissance style portrait as serious gander.

"Perhaps..."

"Well I should say, I rather like it," he whispered as he cocked his head to the side to stare at a more interesting art piece across the room, "Please...continue."

"You're incorrigible," she declared in a bolstering display of rosy cheeks as she moved to look at the next installation, "That's fine and well, you and me, but what if one of us gets the pinch? Get stuck in a corner and all bets are off..."

"And who exactly would be putting you in a corner?" he asked, though based on the twinkle in his eyes he knew good and well already.

"Them. If you or I get caught," she stated as she gave a discrete nod to one of the museum guards making his rounds, "But now that you mention it. I'm starting to think it'd be you."

"How devious of me..." he whispered in her ear before he moved on.

He came to a stop in front of a Grecian statue, a nude woman draped in folds of silk. Each ripple of fabric perfectly chiseled from the stone, as if it had always been that way, sitting in a quarry in all its smooth perfection.

"So what do you think?"

"Of the art or the job?"

"Ladies choice..."

"I believe they have cameras," she finally replied, "First of their kind or so I've been told."

"You don't say?" he admonished, already aware of the hiccup, "Well, I don't much want to be the star of a low budget moving picture."

"Really? I don't know, you might appear rather dashing, though the black and white wouldn't do you justice. I suppose that would also apply to prison stripes."

"Complement and snare all in the same breath..."

"I'm sure you'll manage," she commented as she made her way to the final room.

"I'm sure I will," he whispered to himself with a Cheshire grin as he strolled on behind her before continuing their conversation, "You know they definitely didn't have those the last time I was here."

"Explains why they got them," she smiled, "I've seen six guards, which means they have eight, one watching storage and the other watching the screens."

They finished their turn around the rest of the rooms rather more quickly. They'd seen the pièce de résistance and it was a beauty. Secure display, cameras, and guards, a job for the ages it seemed. Of course after discussing the security measures Ruby fell quiet. He had to worry if she was about to bow out. As they walked outside he passed her a wayward glance.

"Did I scare you away?" he asked in earnest.

She stopped and smiled, an unabashed sort of move that made him hopeful, "You're just lucky I don't scare easy."

The valet handed him his keys, but she gave pause before he could open the door.

"There's a little boutique around the corner. I'd like to pop in. I'll catch a taxi back to the hotel."

She was lying, he could tell, but he smiled anyway and passed a shrug. It wasn't like they were saying goodbye.

"I'll catch you later..." he finally acknowledged as he hopped in his car.

"Not if I catch you first..." she countered as she blew him a kiss.


	10. chapter 9 - whispering city

**chapter 9**

* * *

**~ whispering city ~**

* * *

Detective Coulson was pacing near the entrance to Asgard Towers, a pent up mess of frustration and nerves, itching for a drink despite the hour. Officer Rogers had filled him in about the possible lead the night before. He'd been expecting a call from Ruby that morning, but it never came. Then he'd shown up at her hotel only to find her MIA. Things were adding up and they weren't in her favor. He wasn't sure yet if that was a surprise. He was regretting including her, but she was the only 'in' they had. He was plenty aware that sometimes to get results you had to color outside the lines. Heck, involving her was coloring off the paper.

He took a moment to duck out of the way as a car pulled up, a green beauty that he could work his whole life for and still not afford. A man stepped out; fine pressed suit, green silk scarf, gold cane, and styled black hair, he was rich to a T. He was smooth and he knew it, it radiated in his air.

"Officer," the man nodded and Phil gave him one in return.

Phil frowned as he watched him pass before giving a glance down to his clothes. Was he that obvious? A tailored suit, not nearly as posh, but he could still easily pass as any other working Joe. He grumbled and crossed his arms. He was in a foul enough mood already.

He was about to throw in the towel after another good thirty minutes of nothing when a yellow cab drove up. A few seconds of looking and he caught Ruby's familiar face in the back seat. She exited the car and passed off some cash to the driver, oblivious to his stare.

"You're playing fast and loose and I don't like it," Phil declared as he walked up to Ruby and pulled her off to the side.

"What are you doing here?" she harshly whispered as she gave a panicked look around the area.

"Keeping tabs on my agent, which I shouldn't have to do," he seethed as he tried to usher her away from eavesdropping passersby, "Where have you been?"

"I didn't sign up for this..." she finally announced, avoiding the question all together.

"Losing your nerve?"

"I don't know, maybe, I just needed to think."

"Well, you've had your think, now you've got to spill," he demanded as they finally ducked into an alley, still carrying on in whispers, "Officer Rogers told me about last night. Took him awhile to place the face, recognized him from the society pages of the Daily Bugle, but he said a well-to-do gent named Loki Laufeyson came up to you, made himself a prime candidate for Spectre. Rogers told me when he asked you if he was our man your answer and your face gave conflicting reports."

He studied her as he concluded, knowing she was holding out. He wasn't one to lean on a dame, but if push came to shove he'd do it. There was too much on the line not to.

"It's him," Ruby reluctantly admitted, though there was a hint of melancholy in her voice.

He felt like he'd just been hit by a brick wall, going full speed on the 95. Two simple words had unveiled the mastermind. He'd never met Loki, but the man was about to get the squeeze. Who would have thought a wealthy gent had sticky fingers? It didn't make sense, not really. All the money in the world...

Phil whistled, "Hot dang. Wouldn't have suspected that. He doesn't even need the money."

"It's not about the money..." she quietly mused, more to herself than anything else.

"Really? Then what's it about?"

"The thrill."

He passed her a skeptical glance. He could wrap his head around plenty, but not that, definitely not that. There was nothing thrilling about hard time and, with Spectre's record, that's about all he was due.

"So what's the score?" he prodded her further, wondering why she still wasn't singing.

"The star sapphire, set to headline the gala at The Vault."

Phil whistled again. Everything was falling into place for once. He would have celebrated, but it was early and with his luck he'd stumble on a kink. It was a familiar scenario that had crashed plenty of his stings against the Hydra Underground. It was a damn shame such promising work fell to rubble, breaking apart right there at the end. He wasn't going to let this one play out that way. He was too seasoned, too tired to let it fall to pieces.

"When does it go down?"

"I don't know."

He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure if she was holding back. She seemed like the type who'd be big on insurances, keeping a bit for herself if things went a bad way for her. It was a wise investment given her precarious position as she played both sides, but it was luxury he wouldn't grant her. He needed to know everything she did and fast. They'd already fallen behind since she'd kept him out of the loop by not calling, a misstep he wouldn't soon forget.

"When does it go down?" he asked again.

"I don't know," she repeated, "We haven't gotten that far."

"So you were at a meet up..." Phil stated, not big on her being less than forth coming.

She didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"Listen, from now on we play this by the book. No more vanishing acts, no more rendezvouses. You just sit pretty in your hotel room until he sets up another meet. Then give me a call so we can set up a tail and get eyes. Got it?" he paused and she nodded her head, "Good. Now I'm going back to the office to pull files on this Loki character."

Ruby let out a sigh and turned to walk away. He realized he was neglecting the most important angle. It was a hazard of the job. Most of his dealings were with bodies or suspects. It had made him both blunt and cynical, a toxic combination for sure. He'd forced his way in and directed her like a puppet, hoping to use her 'unique' position for his gain. It was a bad deal for her, but she hadn't complained, sure her eyes spoke volumes, but her mouth kept quiet and that was hard to come by.

"Hey," he called and she paused, "Keep your head up. We're in the final stretch. You just hold on and nothing can go wrong, you'll be breezing out of here in no time."

She tried to crack a smile, but it faded too quickly to be genuine.

"You mentioned the thrill...what did you mean?" Phil suddenly asked, a bit out of the blue.

Ruby passed him a skeptical glance, as if she wasn't sure about his sincerity. Normally she would have been right. He didn't much care what made the bad guys tick, but somehow this instance was different. With a shrug she dove into explanation.

"Mother Nature is the greatest thief. She gave us time and he's as sly as they come, whisking away the hours and the years. It's not the same, but it is. When it disappears everyone's stuck in wonder wanting to know how it left and where it's gone. Well only the thief knows the answer and it's the greatest secret, the greatest thrill..."

"But thieves get caught," Phil quickly commented on the flaw.

"Yeah, but the good ones don't. The secret is usually where things muck up. They don't guard it well enough and they leave behind little clues. See, the secret is power and you guard it because anyone who knows it gets power over you. Enough people know it and, well, the jig is up."

"You know...I sort of wonder about you," Phil said after he'd thought over the explanation.

"Why's that?"

"You play the line a bit too well."

"And here I thought you were starting to like me," she laughed as she disappeared into the mass of pedestrians and headed back in the direction of her hotel.

Phil shook his head as he followed suit, merging into the stream of people pleasantly unaware of the scheming city underbelly plotting away, just out of view from their everyday lives. Oh, to be naive, blind to the movements in shadows...no, there was a certain thrill to knowing...apparently he understood better than he thought.


	11. chapter 10 - kiss me deadly

**chapter 10**

* * *

**~ kiss me deadly ~**

* * *

Ruby was hardly pleased. This arraignment was leaving her in sorts. She had ducked from the gallery with Loki to the 'boutique.' It was a ploy for air and a minute to think. He was debonair and devious, and when she was around him she couldn't see straight. There was too much banter and tension, mostly sexual to boot. She'd actually camped on a park bench in a daze. When she'd realized the hour she scurried away noting that she was sulking, a temperament that didn't look good on anyone. Forcing a bounce in her step she contended that the only play she could make was her own. After catching a cab and running into Detective Coulson, he put another damper on the mood. She welcomed the solitude of her hotel room per his orders. At least there she could clear her head and find her focus, two things that had fogged all up in Loki's presence.

As she reached her room she slid the key in the door and after a faint click she was able to turn the knob. She drew in a deep breath as she walked in. It was dimly lit as the blinds were drawn; no doubt housekeeping had made their rounds. She shut the door and crossed the room, wanting desperately to kick off her heels, but wanting a flood of sunlight more. She threw open the heavy fabric shades and with a sigh she turned around only to find Loki leaning casually against the far wall. She sheltered a startled yelp, realizing it was him before it could escape her parted lips. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she about doubled over, but after smoothing some hair from her face she held her cool.

"What are you doing in here?" she gasped with a shaky voice still startled by his sudden appearance.

"I'm a thief remember," he smiled with an innocent shrug, "Picking a lock is scarcely difficult."

"That's hardly a reason," she countered, still struggling to figure out what he was doing in her hotel room.

"True. You got a package..." he simply stated as he nudged a brown box on the nearby dresser, "Thought I'd make the delivery."

"And then make yourself at home?" she scoffed as she moved to give the label a glance.

It was from the Observatory Museum, no doubt returning the duplicate dagger and the rest of her fee. It made her a bit chipper that she had concluded that business, now if only she could get out of this mess. An hour later and Detective Coulson would have imposed on an empty room and the package would have been forwarded to the next stop in the line. It was wistful and dangerous looking back, wishing how things could have been. It distracted from the here and now.

"Can I ask you a question?" Loki suddenly pressed, but she failed to offer protest so he continued, "What would you say if I told you I was an architect of destruction?"

"Yours or mine?" she immediately replied, though it was looking like hers all the way.

He suddenly grinned and she could tell he took some strange pleasure in her answer. He stared at the dresser as he seemed to be thinking. His eyes passed over her train ticket, still sitting out, even after Detective Coulson's impromptu visit. Her sudden penchant for gentleman callers was really rather appalling. Many more and people might draw the wrong idea.

"Planning your getaway?" he casually asked, though she was put off by the prying.

"I was always bound to leave and that was a fact long before I ran into you. Besides I don't belong in your city..."

"I don't know I think my city looks better with you in it."

She was about to request an explanation, slipping into her room on the sly and exchanging a strange bit of conversation, but he moved closer.

"So how would you do it?" he asked as he rounded her and she could have sworn he took in a faint whiff of her rose shampoo.

"How would I do it?" she repeated as her perfectly lacquered red nails slid across the package on the dresser, pushing it further out of view, "I would have already done it."

"Really?" he cooed as his head moved over her shoulder, "Do tell."

"I would have gone for it when it was deposited at the museum and held in the storage room. Security was normal, but things were hectic preparing for the centennial, a cut to the power and then maybe two night guards to contend with. Now the centennial is here, preparations are in place, security is tightened. With all eyes are on it, it won't be worth the trouble."

"Well then, let me amend," he said with a grin, "How would you do it now?"

"And why would that matter?" she casually stated with a cool drawl, "You're the mastermind remember? I'm just along for the ride. I thought you already had everything planned..."

"Everything planned but you," he whispered against her lips as he turned her around.

Before she could respond he drew her into a passionate kiss. He'd sucked the breath right out of her, leaving her a pent-up mess of fluttering nerves. She tried to bounce back, but under his intense stare she knew she'd already fallen to pieces. Without missing a beat she decided to press forward ignoring what had just transpired.

"Well sometimes you've got to improvise," she commented with a smile, though her voice came out more ragged than she'd intended, "What's the matter? Not good on your toes?"

"Oh, I'd love to show you everything I'm good at," he murmured.

As she stared into Loki's green eyes she realized the entire sting had just been compromised. She was attracted to her target. He was a bad target too. He'd lead her to trouble and heartbreak, and not necessarily in that order.

[] [] []

Officer Steve Rogers had gone to the file room, slightly dismayed to find himself back in his cramped little space, a no-man's land punishment for his overeager dig into the shady dealings of one Tony Stark. It wasn't ideal, but it was necessary. Since he hadn't gotten the okay to pull info on their prime suspect he was tracking down old cases. They had box after box on Spectre, a trail of jobs all packed into storage, deemed cold, but not forgotten. Even before he went looking he knew something was off. They had drummed up a solid lead, yet they were the only ones on the trail.

"There you are. I've been looking all over, what are you doing back in here?"

Steve glanced up. Detective Coulson stood against the open door with a funny sort of smile on his face like he had a secret and was debating sharing. He'd been so wrapped up in studying the files that he hadn't heard anyone come in. No, that was a lie. A familiar face was haunting him and no amount of work could distract him. Why did old memories always pick the damndest time to flutter on by?

"I thought I'd make myself useful and go over the old Spectre cases, get a tally going of all the crimes he's going down for."

Detective Coulson nodded as he inched in and eyed the piles of boxes, "I've got good news. Ruby says it's him. Loki Laufeyson is Spectre. Finally have a flesh and blood body to connect to the ghost."

"I guess that explains it..." Steve suddenly mused as he put down a stack of paperwork.

He didn't need to go through anymore to pick up on the overwhelmingly obvious pattern. It was bad news all around and he hated to be the bearer.

"Explains what?" Detective Coulson finally inquired.

"Why we have nothing to charge Spectre with."

"Come again?"

"He's wealthy and connected enough. All the museums withdrew their claims. No complainant, no theft..."

"No..." Detective Coulson lamented as he took one of the case forms, "All of them?"

"Haven't been through them all, but I'm far enough in that it wouldn't surprise me."

"Dang nabbit!" Detective Coulson exclaimed as he started to pace around the tiny room, "That means this one is probably going to go down in the same way. Unless..."

"Unless what?" Steve prodded when he trailed off.

"Unless we catch Spectre in the act, red-handed and no amount of clout can get him out," Detective Coulson smiled, as Steve's damper had apparently been lifted.


	12. chapter 11 - the lady confesses

**chapter 11**

* * *

**~ the lady confesses ~**

* * *

Ruby was held under Loki's gaze, a come-hither stare that left no room for doubt. He wanted her and she wasn't so snared to skip wondering why. She wasn't exactly a good girl so the offer was tempting, another place, another time she would have reciprocated, but circumstances weren't exactly fair. She was playing him for a fool and now it was worse, because now she was playing with feelings. He'd started as a mark, a means to an end, but now he had a name, he had a face, and he had a heart. Damn her for letting him that far in...

"I'm working with the police," she abruptly spilled, a bubbling fool caught under his spell.

He stepped back after her admission. He was always so cool and collected, which now made his reaction impossible to gauge.

"Ruby," he softly began and she fluttered at the use of her name, "I know you're playing with the law, trying to pinch me..."

She stared at Loki, hurt by the truth. He'd known all along. He'd known and said nothing, playing her like a fool too. Her anger welled into a single action as she slapped him across the cheek. His head jerked to the side as she hit him, leaving a deep rosy red, stark against his pale features. He turned back to stare at her, his eyes unreadable. She boiled with a million questions wanting to know how and why, but none of them mattered. Nothing was important beyond this moment because, like a million threads, they'd all come unraveled.

"Why did you tell me?" he suddenly asked.

It wasn't a path she wanted to head down. She'd already made a mess of everything and the last thing she needed was to be caught in the aftermath. Detective Coulson would rain down a world of trouble for mucking up his operation for sure. She cringed wondering where that thought had been a few seconds before, saving her from herself as it were.

"I think you should go," she stated instead as she started towards the door, but his hand slid onto the wall as he blocked her retreat.

"Why did you tell me?" he asked again.

She turned then, back against the wall, realizing she'd found herself in a pickle long before he drifted on by. He'd just been the final nail, sealing away her fate in a proverbial coffin six feet deep. She'd found pressure from all sides, but he'd made her cave, him and those pools of green.

"Tell me..." he urged again, but this time she heard the quiver in his voice.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she met his pleading stare.

"I didn't want to hurt you," she finally admitted and even though it was the truth it left her unsettled.

Suddenly he reached up, cupping her face as he kissed her again. She felt the weight of his body as he pressed her against the wall. Her fingers traced the soft creases along the shoulders of his black suit. Slowly he pulled away and studied her face. After a moment he traced his thumb along her bottom lip, a gentle brush that made her miss the sweet rapture of his lips. He smiled then, playful and alluring, with a mad twinkle that meant he had to be scheming.

"So the jig is up..." he stated as he slid a waif of brown hair from her face, "I didn't want the gem anyway..."

She laughed, hardly buying that he'd let all his planning go to waste, "I don't believe you."

"And what declaration would make you believe otherwise?"

She shook her head, running her fingers across his green silk scarf to straighten out the folds. She couldn't look at him, couldn't face the situation that she was partly to blame for creating. Slowly he reached over and slid his hand across hers, lacing together their fingers. Drawing it up he kissed the back and she was left in sorts under the gentle linger of his lips across her skin. He pulled away then and walked back into her hotel room towards the nightstand. She watched him as he picked up the black rotary phone and turned to her.

"Call him. Tell him that it's going down tomorrow night. Tell him everything he needs to know," he stated as he held out the receiver, "While he's setting his trap we'll set our sights on new horizons..."

She stared, unblinking, trying to come to terms with what he was implying. He couldn't be serious. It would never work. Things would get hung up in the execution and topple on down around them.

"Ride off into the sunset?" she laughed though transitioned into a more serious tone, "I don't think you're the type to wish for such a boring ending..."

"Who said anything about a sunset?" he immediately countered, "I was thinking more a fade to black. The cover of nightfall is always more alluring. Besides, what you call an ending, I call a beautiful beginning."

"You know they'll give chase. They know who you are now. They know your game," she quickly announced because he hadn't seen the determination in Detective Coulson's eyes.

"I highly doubt that," he replied with a grin.

She eyed him suspiciously, "Why do I have a feeling you're not telling me everything?"

"Maybe because you're not telling me everything either..."

He was right. This entire charade, elaborately crafted and acted, was the perfect foreplay for a budding forbidden romance. He knew it and that's why he'd engaged in it. Part of her, that wasn't afraid to admit it, knew she'd done just the same. He was good and he knew it. She'd say it again. He'd ensnared her that night as they danced to the Moonlight Serenade, pretending for a moment that there weren't ulterior motives behind every word. It wasn't as much a dance as it was a game, each footfall, each utterance, an opening play.

She took the phone from him and it was cool in her hand as she dialed the operator. He stood near her, eyes cast downward as he waited right along with her.

"I would like to be connected with Detective Phil Coulson. I believe he placed a call to me before."

She waited a moment as the operator acted and soon enough the other line was ringing. Part of her hoped it would ring forever, echoing on through an empty office, maybe even an empty station. It was a silly thought as the line picked up. He'd told her to call him and that carried the implication that he'd be waiting.

"Detective Coulson..." his familiar voice answered from the other end.

"It's Ruby," she stated, short and sweet, "The heist of the star sapphire from The Vault...it's going down tomorrow night."

"He called a meeting?"

"No, he just...called," she knew even as she spoke it there was a suspicious undertone, but she was hardly a crafty liar under such impromptu circumstances.

"Right. Tomorrow night when?"

"The thirteenth hour..."

"Flair for dramatics, to be expected I suppose. Listen things have changed. We need to pinch him in the act for this to stick. We're going to be on you like glue."

"What? That wasn't the plan..."

"Plans change," he countered.

She slowly looked up at Loki, "Yes, I suppose they do."

"Hang tough. This is the final stretch. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Unhun," she sighed as she hung up the phone.

"The thirteenth hour?" Loki inquired with a raised brow.

She shrugged, not prepared with an explanation, "Sounded like something you'd say..."

"It did," he surprisingly admitted with a smile, "So 12:59 to 1:00. Doesn't really leave much of a window, but I suppose something magical could happen in a minute."

"Magical? That's hardly reassuring..."

"Well then, rest assured, I'll meet you on the platform," he whispered as he grabbed the tickets from her dresser and slid them in her hand, "The last train will be ours."

She quietly lamented as he ducked out of her hotel room and she was left in the chilling quiet faced with an impossible choice. This game was fixed and no amount of planning could derail it.


	13. chapter 12 - the long memory

**chapter 12**

* * *

**~ the long memory ~**

* * *

_Loki had a date with the city and he wasn't about to keep her waiting. She'd slid her cool midnight cloak around the towers of steel and glass. The blanket of stars mingled with the twinkle of city lights and sleepless eyes. The veil of darkness was always the perfect partner in crime. She harbors all the whispers and spilled blood, all the deeds too frightful for daylight._

_He'd parked his car and slipped on a black homburg to keep his face in shadow. He took to the empty streets, the click of his cane and tap of his polished shoes echoed in the night. It was a dangerous hour, but then Loki was dangerous too._

_He'd passed on dinner with his brother. Thor had a way of mingling business and pleasure, so there was no doubt his three business partners would be in attendance as well. They were fast talkers and they spun a big game, but Loki preferred his ventures more low-key. Thor had extended an invitation, which also meant he'd probably slipped in a plus one, who'd be disappointed her date stood her up. Thor and Loki were night and day, which was a metaphor that also extended to their taste in women. As consolation she had a ticket to the hottest spot in town where she could easily find a square to show her a good time and see her to her doorstep at a reasonable hour. He could provide none of those things, though a good time was more a matter of predilection._

_The truth was he wasn't in town to entertain family connections. He'd come to bid a final farewell to his city, and it was his city. In a matter of minutes he was already at her heart, the beating world of art and commerce where money and taste diverged. Every gallery and museum was on this street. He knew it well. It was an artery he'd spent years bleeding dry. Somewhere amid the opulence of the approaching city gala he'd find the object of his desire, a parting gift to remember her by._

_He came to a stop in front of The Vault, a gleaming golden art nouveau building at the very center of the city, constructed at the turn of the century. It used to be a bank, but men with vision got hold of the tired shell and turned it into a high end gallery for posh people with snobbish tastes. The outdoor displays held printing press posters of the centennial celebration gala. The sensation of the evening was set to be a star sapphire, excavated in the East Indies, owned by a slew of monarchs, and traded through black-market dealings before falling into the hands of the Mayor, who gave the museum temporary proprietorship._

_He'd found his mark, though it wasn't as exciting as he'd hoped, just another object to add to his collection, a pile of trinkets, each with a story. He ran his checklist through his head, knowing what he needed to do to get off the ground was key. Access to the blueprints was a must, a daylight visit to scope security, and a major brainstorm to tie it all together. By the end of the week, he'd have himself a gem._

_As he passed the Observatory Museum on his way back to the car he brushed into a woman descending the steps. She was carrying a black duffel and he caught it as she bumped him. The zipper was loose and it slipped just enough to catch a glimmer of gold. Loki would recognize it anywhere. He'd thought of nicking it once or twice himself, but circumstances made it impractical. The Florentine Dagger. The jewel of a fallen empire. The exotic remnant of a time long passed._

_"My apologies," he declared with a tip of his hat as he offered back the score._

_As she snatched the bag away he caught a glimpse of ruby lips and blue eyes with a come-hither twinkle. She had the face of a doll and the mind of a thief. He was bemused, be-spelled, but mostly intrigued. She was caught in the moment, her head in the game as she strolled away. The sway of her hips, the lingering scent of her rose water hair. She was a vision and she was also pinched. Such a shame really, she was almost worth his attention._

_He withdrew from her presence as two flatfoots approached with the museum curator in tow. Just as he was about to focus on his retreat he paused and slipped into the shadows of an elm tree near the museum concourse. There were no sirens. There were no black-and-whites. The night was still, silent, perfectly set for a getaway. He eyed her then, his green eyes regarding the scene as she handed off the bag and spoke with them. He walked away, smiling. He knew she hadn't been trying. He knew she'd wanted to get caught. He knew she was one of them._

_She was the opposite side of his coin, if there really was such a thing as good or bad in this city where lines so often blurred. He was curious how many times he'd have to flip it before the odds played in his favor, not that he needed any help. Under the right circumstances and with well-aimed efforts he could lull any situation or person into his spell. The real question then became, how hard was he willing to work? Latter circumstances would eventually reveal that answer. _

_Yes, he'd descended into the nocturnal hours looking for something, but what, he hadn't been sure. It was funny how well his dark mistress knew him. __Under the cover of nightfall, in the smallest of moments, she always had a way of showing him exactly what he desired. He wanted a gem, but as luck would have it, a gem of a very different color._

[] [] []

Loki stood by Ruby's door as the memory came and went. Of course, though their first meeting was memorable, it was the following day when he saw the headline that he became ensnared. He was doubtful she was aware, but she'd extended the first invitation and, being a gentleman, he couldn't very well refuse. Such a bold declaration deserved every bit of his attention. He was playing with fire, but then so was she.

His initial goal had been to draw her in, but that evening on the dance floor a new purpose took hold. He wanted to tempt her. He wanted to bring out the lingering thief beneath the surface...the one who would have taken that dagger with her into the night, not because she needed it, not because she wanted it, but because she could. The truth was he wanted to corrupt her. Mingling between good and bad was so much more fun. His only obstacle was that ultimately the decision was hers and he realized that this was the first plan that was poised to unravel. Everything was hinged on lovely Ruby, drenched in red. He might have been more confident, but he'd seen her expression as they parted ways. She was a bundle of confusion and secrets. He grinned as he started down the hall, knowing it was exactly as he wanted it, every bit the mystery and danger he craved.

[] [] []

Detective Coulson didn't need a psychic to realize things were off. Something in Ruby's voice alarmed him. It was a feeling in his gut, but without any evidence he had to proceed as usual. With the details finally narrowed down he marched into the Police Chief's office because his two man show couldn't pull off this sting alone. He needed more man power, more resources, anything to ensure this plot really made it off the ground. Spilling everything put the Chief in a foul mood, but that was to be expected. Phil had run down this lead and set things into motion without an official okay. It wasn't the way he usually operated, but with a trail of muck-ups he had to be sure this move was right.

"So Spectre is going after the star sapphire and you have an 'in' with this dame named Ruby, which you steered along with a plant at the paper," the Chief whistled as he leaned back in his chair, "You know if this goes south there'll be no turning back. You took so much rope you may hang yourself in spades."

"I know..." Phil replied trying not to entertain the possibility.

"Well, you have my okay to wrangle up every resource you need," the Chief stated, but gave Phil another thought before he could leave, "Take note though, the radio chatter's going to go crazy. This will be on the mouth of every officer come morning. If Spectre has a source in the department you're going to have to scramble."

"Thank you, sir. I'll keep that in mind."

Phil stepped out of the office with a faint smile. He wasn't too focused to say that his meeting played out better than expected. As he made his way back to his desk he waved down Officer Rogers who was carrying on a conversation by the water cooler. After filling up his cup Officer Rogers made a beeline to follow.

"We're going to need an unmarked bus listening in on the chatter," Phil began, "We're going to need some additional flatfoots to keep eyes. We're going to need to contact The Vault, get some of our guys in on security. We're going to need a transport vehicle for after the take-down. Say, are you taking this down?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it in memory. Anything else?"

"Probably. It's at the tip of my tongue, but I just can't figure it..." Phil shook his head and quickly added, "It's going to be a long night and an even longer day. Make plans for the plans, cross every t and dot every i, no one is sleeping until Spectre makes his evening date with the slammer. This time tomorrow I want him sitting smug an' pretty in a concrete box wishing he'd never pursued this life of crime."


	14. chapter 13 - kiss tomorrow goodbye

**chapter 13**

* * *

**~ kiss tomorrow goodbye ~**

* * *

Sleep hadn't come easy as Ruby tossed in bed and it hadn't stayed long as she awoke before dawn, groggy and bathed in darkness. She was walking a razor's edge and one way or another she would fall. Tomorrow...she paused as she passed a glance to the clock, trying to read the delicate hands as she finally corrected herself...today she would have to face whatever conclusion materialized. It was in that realization that she knew she couldn't see it through. She was scared and denying it was hardly for her benefit. There was no use beating around the bush, she was going to run. It was what she was used to, moving from city to city. She'd been poised to leave this one, but then things had gone awry.

Drawing from bed she changed from her gray silk nightgown into something for the day. It was a burgundy dress with a cream floral arrangement and it was the only thing she had left that she hadn't worn. Tossing everything into her bag she forced it closed, knowing wherever she ended up she'd kick herself for being so careless with her clothes. Every dress in that crammed bag would be wrinkled from head to toe and need ironing before she could even consider them wearable. Hindsight however, she was stuck in the moment and ready to play a leaf in the wind.

She grabbed her bag, her duffle, and her brown mink coat, giving pause at the door as her memory drifted back to Loki. He'd ensnared her without lifting a finger. His cool calm and dangerous undertones pulled her in with a seductive lull he wasn't entirely aware of, or maybe he was. She knew in that moment, that's what really frightened her, how quickly she fell, caught in the intense draw of his green eyes and wicked smile. This wasn't a game she could play, there was too much at stake.

Ruby slipped down to the lobby with her luggage in tow, but a plain clothed lawman precariously loitering at the window put a damper in her plans. It was funny how easily they stood out, even when it was obvious they were trying to blend in. Something about their air, the solemn demeanor, and serious stare, was all a part of the uniform that they couldn't take off.

The doorman caught her worried stare as he turned to the faint scuffle of her shoes on the polished floors. He was always there, always watching. She wondered if he ever slept. It donned on her that he was Loki's eyes and she panicked at the thought.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" he asked, obviously catching the distress on her face.

She flashed him a smile, "Just checking out...is there a back door?"

He regarded her for a time before he pointed towards a hallway off to the right. She nodded in thanks and took off with determination in her step. As she hit the street and felt the cool morning air she gave in to doubt. Detective Coulson would give chase, he'd threatened as much. Loki hadn't said it, but he didn't seem like the type who'd settle for defeat. It stopped her in her tracks, a sullen dread she couldn't shake. She couldn't leave...she couldn't stay...

Rife with indecision she did the only thing she could. She wandered back to where it all began. The Ice Lounge. Where a chance meeting sealed her fate. The doors were open, but no one was around. A nightclub in the day drops its appeal. Something about sunlight curbs the atmosphere. It can't compete with the soft and subtle hues of moonlight, where the danger was palpable and often real. She passed off her luggage and her fur coat to the check-in, taking a ticket and sliding it into her clutch. The seats were all empty, the dance floor was dark, and the stage was drawn behind heavy white curtains. Everyone working passed her glances, trying to figure why a dame was sulking alone in an empty bar at an hour fit for drunks and miscreants. It didn't matter though because she felt like one of them, lost and searching for some glint of hope.

She took a seat and ordered a drink, knowing that she had to. A lone presence would get the boot, but a paying customer would be tolerated. She didn't know how much time had passed. Sitting indoors usually skews the hour, sheltering the normal arc of the sun. She was aware, however, of the growing crowd as people trickled in from the street and a lively atmosphere elevated the mood. She stared at her tumbler, amber liquid untouched, before her eyes shifted to the train ticket sitting in the center of the round table. She'd taken it out of her clutch and stared at it like somewhere on the printed paper she'd find the answer to all her problems.

"_The last train will be ours_," Loki's statement rang with promise.

Suddenly another voice impeded the reflection.

"A train ticket..." Natasha began as she took a seat, "A man..."

Ruby passed her a surprised glance as she watched the lounge singer slide in beside her. She was just as stunning up close, done up in make-up with loose waves of fiery curls, dressed to perfection with an intrigued glimmer in her eyes.

Natasha just grinned, "Look like that? There's always a man."

"I suppose that's true."

"The one from the night before?"

"No. He was just..."

"Not that one..." Natasha laughed, "The one you were dancing with. A woman knows chemistry on the dance floor. Trust me I've seen it all. Shy couples sharing a first dance, married ones pretending they still have a spark, lovers meeting for a tryst..."

Ruby blushed and shook her head not willing to indulge her implication.

"So are you going to meet him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Things are complicated..."

"They always are," Natasha smiled again, though there was a hint of remorse, "If that train leaves the station and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life," she commented as she stared off, "Take it from a girl who knows..."

"And how would you know?" Ruby said with a raised brow.

Natasha took her time responding as she pulled a flashy silver cigarette case out of her black feathered purse. She slid one between her fingers. A passing man lit it and she flashed him a smile, but in her eyes she let him know his advances were no longer welcome. He took the hint and hit the pavement, scoping the room for another broad to run his sappy spiel. Slowly her blue eyes slid back to Ruby as she took a long drag of her cigarette and let the cloud linger between them.

"I knew a man once," she finally started because sometimes when a story wants out there's no sense in stopping it, "I chose the boulevard to big city dreams over him. I thought he wanted me to be something I couldn't, so I hightailed it into the night. Thought I'd never look back, but when you're running away all you can do is look back. It's all you know. It's all you fear."

Natasha took another drag as the club muscle whispered something about her car in her ear, but still she sat, as if she knew there was something more that needed to be said. Natasha stamped out the cigarette in the silver ash tray as her eyes looked wistfully across the dance floor.

"Someday you'll just stand back and see it. You were really afraid of yourself, of what you've done, of what you want," Natasha sighed as she looked to be captivated by memories, "Sometimes I wonder what could have been. Can't help it, you know? Always looking back. He didn't want to change me. Knowing that would have made all the difference..."

"Guess you don't believe in second chances then?"

Natasha laughed and brushed some of her fiery red hair from her face, a pensive look across her features, "There's no such thing..."

"I think somehow you might find out otherwise."

"Maybe this time I'll take it..." Natasha shrugged, though there was something wistful in her jest, "And maybe this time so will you..."

Ruby watched from the table as she slowly stood and disappeared through the smoky haze of the nightclub. Her black sequin dress caught the glimmer of lights from the empty stage. As the muscle opened the front door she swashed her way across the pavement disappearing into the driver's side of a white LaSalle convertible.


	15. chapter 14 - the thirteenth hour reprise

**chapter 14**

* * *

**~ the thirteenth hour ~ reprise ~**

* * *

There's nothing more satisfying than the moment before the take-down. Everything is on the line. There's no room for error or doubt. It's you and the bad guy. If you're good enough they're caught. If not, it's fifteen minutes of shame and a quick drop of the ax, so to speak. There are only two options because as a law man the world is black and white, a clear cut line in the sand.

It was just after midnight and it was dreary, a slow drizzle of rain on a warm summer evening. A thin fog clung to the ground mingling with the hot humid night. The air was still, too still in fact, as if the world sat in anticipation. It was the big night, the night of the score. One way or another Spectre was going down, but sometimes when it rains it really pours and that's not just a statement about the weather.

Detective Phil Coulson walked across the street, barely making it to the other side before he was lit by the beams of an oncoming car. The driver blared the horn as he hopped onto the sidewalk, missing a puddle, but getting sprayed by the wheels as they rolled through the murky water. He shook his leg trying to ditch the droplets, but the damage to his heather gray tweed suit had already been done. He stared at the drying water on his shoes. He'd just had them shinned and now they were once again dulled by residue. That was life though. A detective with shiny shoes wasn't doing their job. It was a dirty profession, cleaning the streets of two-bit crooks, and there was no coming out the other end without some grime.

As he came upon the black unmarked panel van he glanced around, adjusting his gray homburg, which sent a cascade of water that had pooled along the brim. He was making sure he hadn't been tailed. The streets had eyes and the second they noticed they'd send whispers through the alleys. He gave pause as another car drove by, with windows cracked as a manicured hand flicked cigarette ash on the street. A thin line of smoke billowed up against the paint job of the sleek white LaSalle convertible. Phil let out a silent whistle at the beauty of forged steel. A soulful tune by The Ink Spots rang out from the radio, belting a few lines before the car disappeared in the maze of city streets.

_"Into each life some rain must fall; but too much is falling on mine..."_

He watched the red taillights for as long as he could before finally turning back to the van. As he opened the back door and slipped inside two men turned to stare at him, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. They were sitting at equipment and listening with headphones. Both had taken off their jackets and loosened their ties. It was hot and humid in the tiny interior and he cringed at the sickly sweet smell of body odor in the air.

"What's the chatter like?" he asked as he took a seat nearby and shut the doors.

"On and off. They keep talking about the Ruby...drat, sorry, I know, I keep getting confused."

Detective Coulson nodded his head as he sat back in his chair. The big moment was almost upon them. Everything was in place and they were just waiting for Spectre to make his fatal move. Phil was set to relish in the biggest criminal takedown of his career and it was long overdue. So many sleepless hours and tormented nights were about to be worthwhile.

As he ran through the details again, making notes and checking them twice, he realized something was bothering him. Facts were mixing up and certain pieces were somehow interchangeable. Suddenly he slammed his fist on the table, taking some twisted comfort in the harsh sting that numbed his fingers. He should have seen it sooner. The signs were all there staring at him, clear as day, but he'd been blinded. His sights were so set on Spectre that he hadn't seen the entire chessboard. It was the disastrous flaw that had fixed the game.

"Dang nabbit! Radio the black-and-whites," Phil ordered as he stood up and jumped out of the van, "Send them in now."

"But sir...chattered hasn't changed. He hasn't gone for the gem. If we don't catch him red handed we won't have anything to charge him with."

"We won't have anything to charge him with anyway," Phil called back as he ran into the rainy night, "Spectre's not stealing a gem...he's stealing our Ruby..."

"He's...wait...what?" one of the other men mused just as Phil pulled out of earshot.

The tap of his shoes rang through the empty streets, broken by the occasional splash in a murky puddle. He was knee deep in this sting, drenched in water, and finally realizing what his gut was trying to tell him all along.

Officer Rogers was stationed in a back alley near the Vault, poised to be part of the take-down team, though as Phil approached he noted he'd stepped from the shadows, chatting up a dame in a white LaSalle convertible. As he crossed the street the car sped off and Officer Rogers ruffled his brown hair, immediately passing a guilty look as he met Phil's stern stare.

"What was that about?" Phil asked as he approached, hardly keen about the lapse in duties.

There was a strange look on the young man's face as he turned his head to watch the glow of the taillights eventually disappear into the night.

"A second chance..." Officer Rogers mused with an introspective look in his eyes.

Phil shook his head. Something was amiss, but they were hot on the trail of their own gum-up. It was hardly the time or the place for personal reflections.

"I hope we get a second chance," Phil declared, "This sting just went up in smoke."

"What do you mean?"

"I think we were focusing on the wrong gem this entire time."

"There was another?"

"Yeah, Ruby. We made a leading lady and he fell for her."

"You sure? I mean why go for one when he could have both?"

Phil stopped in his tracks, "Come again?"

"Well, it just seems to me everything is set up so perfectly to get away with both."

Without further explanation Phil felt an onset of panic as he started at a slow jog towards the flight of steps leading up to the Vault. He'd taken such care setting this all into motion, but it was becoming clear he wasn't really the puppeteer behind the curtain.

"Detective Coulson?" Officer Rogers called behind him, "We can't...it's not time yet..."

"It was never going to be time," Phil mumbled as he took the stairs two at a time.

He felt the wet slosh of his socks in his shoes. He was a grimy mess of rainwater and regret, but he had a bad feeling only one of those conditions could be changed.

"Open up," he yelled as he banged on the front doors until a slew of his own men posed as security guards came running.

Officer Rogers finally approached with a quizzical look on his face. He was trying to put it together and as his jaw line hardened it was clear he'd reached a similar conclusion.

"You think this was all a smoke screen..."

"Yeah, I do. Only question is who orchestrated this...Spectre or Ruby?"

"Or both..." Officer Rogers added as the doors were finally opened and they burst inside to a barrage of questions.

"What's happened? Has it been taken?" the curator rambled as he emerged from the upper administrative rooms, descending the sweeping staircase as best as he could manage in the dark.

The old coot had insisted on being present, partly driven by the slippery slope the law liked to play. He didn't want his precious gem to be saved only to 'disappear' in police custody. There were plenty with a badge who didn't play the straight and narrow, a sad reflection of a glimmering city washed in filth from all sides.

"I believe it has..." Phil announced and it drove everyone into a panic.

The curator ran through the darkened rooms, loose change and keys jiggling in his pockets. He made his way to the main display area nestled between the sweeping staircases through the long colonnade doorway of carved arches. In the center of the white washed room stood a mahogany display draped with a red velvet cover for the grand unveiling. The curator quickly ripped it aside, sending the crimson fabric to pool on the white marble floor.

"You see?" the curator smiled as he opened the display case to reveal the star sapphire, "We've taken all the necessary precautions. No one is stealing this beauty."

The curator then went for the gem, but in his still panicked state he fumbled with his stubby round fingers. It rolled gently across the black velvet display lining, falling in a slow motion outburst of dread as the curator tried to catch it. Crashing to the floor it shattered in a deafening explosion of glittering pieces. As everyone fell into shocked silence Phil stepped forward and stared down at the polished white marble floor flecked with a dusting of sapphire blue.

"Was it supposed to do that?" Phil finally inquired when it was obvious no sort of explanation was about to be given.

"No," the curator barely coughed out, "It is...it is glass. This is not the real gem."

"Dang nabbit! Where's Ruby?" Phil yelled as he walked around the tiny shards.

"Um...sir?" Officer Rogers quietly roused his attention as he cleared his throat, "I might have an idea..."


	16. chapter 15 - the dark corner

**chapter 15**

* * *

**~ the dark corner ~**

* * *

It was the last stretch before a new day struck and Ruby was still brooding at the bar in the Ice Lounge, waiting for a wave to blow over and trouble to hit her. It was really just a matter of time. The thirteenth hour would come and go, leaving a mass of flatfoots reeling with confusion and on a mission to assemble some answers. She was hiding, but she wasn't. There was no use in running, but maybe the search would cool down bruised egos and allow some tempers to subside, though it was unlikely.

"You're still here?" the bartender asked as he passed, probably wondering what could get a dame so down to sit alone at a happening bar.

"Yeah, something came up..." she quietly whispered as she swirled the ice round in her empty tumbler, uninterested in having another.

She hoped Loki would have sense enough to catch that train without her. It was a fool's errand he'd put himself on, but sometimes it's better to let the train fly down the tracks than to get it derailed and by now the engine was already reaching full speed.

"You both planned this didn't you?" a familiar voice demanded behind her.

She dropped her shoulders and slowly turned in her chair to find Detective Coulson and Officer Rogers staring her down. Their looks commanded answers, but she didn't have any, of course the ones she did have she wasn't willing to spill. She'd already sung once under Loki's intense stare, giving herself up like a love struck schoolgirl too doe-eyed to care. She wasn't about to do it again, besides, Detective Coulson didn't hold that sort of sway, at least not over her.

"These squares giving you trouble doll?" the bartender called from the opposite end, clearly picking up on the hostile mood in the air.

"Other way round..." she whispered just loud enough for him to catch the drift and return to his other patrons.

It was clear both men had been idling in the dreary evening weather, waiting for a moment that wouldn't come. They obviously thought she was behind the muck-up and, though she couldn't claim innocence, she wouldn't fess-up either. It was hardly her fault that Loki's plan had steered away from nicking the star sapphire. He could play fast and loose, catering to whims. His personality and wit allowed it.

"Don't know what you mean..." she casually stated, finally replying to the Detective's accusations.

"You fell and you fell hard," Detective Coulson rebutted as he slid the glass she'd been fidgeting with out of her fingers and slammed it hard on the polished table top, causing some passersby to scatter, "Two seconds in his company and he's flipped you. How's it feel to be on the other side of the law? Not so appealing when the consequences find you."

Ruby laughed and finally glanced up at his stern features, "You just don't get it..."

"Well then, help me get it."

"Why? Everyone thinks they know everything. Well, I'm just a leaf breezing on by. I don't care to know."

"So you figured you'd make a buck on the side before you pulled a vanishing act?" Detective Coulson pressed, "Where's the Ruby?"

"What are you..."

"Where's the sapphire?" he quickly corrected with a frustrated growl.

"Sitting pretty at the Vault..." she coolly replied, trying to contain her grin at the slip-up.

"Wrong," he frowned, clearly not amused by her response, but she'd given him the only answer she could.

She sat in silence, letting everything sink in. It was hardly easy to keep panic from slipping across her features. She'd found herself in more trouble than she planned for. It seemed to be happening a lot.

"It's gone?" she quietly asked.

"Don't tell me you didn't know..." Detective Coulson scoffed before his eyes drifted from the tumbler to the train ticket.

Ruby realized what he was eyeing and moved to block it, but he reached behind her snatching it up before she could protest. Glancing it over he eventually regarded her with a narrow glare.

"Officer Rogers, when's the last train?"

"Comes in at one I think."

"So you're all slipping away at the thirteenth hour..." Detective Coulson made the final connection as his brain was processing everything he knew.

She could see it in his eyes, deep and pensive, without a moment to lose. He suddenly let out a deep laugh as it no doubt came to together.

"Well, you two may have planned this, but I'm going to finish it," he stated as he grabbed her arm and pulled her up from the chair, "You've got a date with a train, which I've no doubt will lead us to a Spectre. He thinks he's clever, pulling all the strings, but the last laugh is going to be mine when he realizes you were the one who did him in. You may have flirted with his side of the law, but you're on ours."

She let out a sigh. She was getting swept up in the confusion. There were too many players, too many games to keep track. Everyone had a piece of the puzzle, thinking somehow they could fill in the blanks, but there was only one person with the answers, only one person who had the missing pieces to know where all this madness was leading.

"You do this and we're square," Detective Coulson suddenly folded, a moment of weakness or maybe compassion, so often they became one and the same, "I'll turn a blind eye to this fluttery nonsense; after all, sometimes the heart can lead us astray..."

She slid her arm away from his grasp and snatched up her clutch. He held out her train ticket as she begrudgingly took it and marched over to the coat check. The woman handed her a mink coat and she slid it over her shoulders, hoping to keep the crisp chill of the night air at bay. Then she took her bags and Detective Coulson gave her a raised brow.

"You were ready to go..." he mused as he helped her with her luggage, "What stopped you? A spit of sense perhaps?"

"Sometimes you find yourself in a corner," she quietly stated, making it clear that was all he'd get.

He mulled it over for a moment, plainly missing her point. It was okay though. He wouldn't get it. He never would. And to be frank there was nothing wrong that. It was just the type of man he was.

"Officer Rogers, round up anyone who's still around. We need some man power on that platform. We've got a thief to wrangle before he catches a train and disappears into the night."

"He won't be there," Ruby whispered, knowing she was pitching a bluff. She couldn't know anything for certain when it came to Loki.

"For your sake he better be," Detective Coulson stated as they breeched the main entrance and stood on the dreary sidewalk waiting for a car, "He doesn't show then you're on the line for the whole shebang, but I guess that could have been his plan all along."

"Suppose it could have been..." Ruby mused with an introspective stare.


	17. chapter 16 - the pretender

**chapter 16**

* * *

**~ the pretender ~**

* * *

Ruby stood quietly on the platform hoping with every bone in her body that Loki didn't bother to show. It was a double edged sword though, leaving her in sorts with Detective Coulson, but at the end of the day there were some chances that weren't worth taking and this was definitely one of them. There was a small army lurking in the shadows, officers angling to finish what they'd started in the gloomy drizzle of another sleepless night. Then again Loki didn't seem like the type to shy away from peril. Heck, he might even see it as another adventure wrangling this close to the law.

"There's something you should know..."

"Loki?" Ruby recognized his voice immediately.

As she turned around she met his vivid green eyes and caught his playful smirk. He was dressed to impress, as always, with a dark suit and a green tie. He stepped out of the fog like a specter, a vision of danger and mystery. With one more step he joined her in the halo of light from a platform lamp.

"I always get what I want."

Confused she drew her mink coat tighter to seal out the chill of the midnight air as it licked through the station, "And what is it that you want?"

He stepped forward again. Two long strides and their bodies were close. His presence was dominating, tall and lean, as she cocked her neck to meet his gaze. There was something in his eyes, a glimpse of need.

"You..." he whispered just as the train platform was flooded by armed men.

Their footfalls resounded with the same beat of her heart that pained in her chest, broken by the singular act of betrayal. It was all fixed and she couldn't derail it without playing her hand, ending up in a tight spot herself.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered back as she rubbed her cheek against his hand.

He'd cupped her face, but the flatfoots pulled him back before their lips had a chance to brush.

"No you're not," he grinned as they chained him and dragged him to a black prison bus, "It doesn't suit you."

"Loki Laufeyson, I am placing you under arrest for suspicion of theft..." Detective Coulson announced as he emerged from the swarm with a victorious bounce in his step.

Loki's eyes widened as he passed a glance back to Ruby and she could see the gears working in his head. She smiled then and it was genuine. Soon enough he'd see the bigger picture and she just hoped he'd forgive her, maybe in another life they'd get a chance at happiness, but this one wasn't it.

[] [] []

They made the ride to the station in silence, which was perfectly fine because Detective Coulson was savoring his triumph. There'd be time enough for talking, though just one look at the materialized Spectre gave him a feeling he wasn't in for a confession or much in the way of answers. Loki sat calm and vaguely observant with his hands clasped in his lap, like he was being chauffeured to an evening soiree. That mood would change fast though, once he had a rude introduction to his date, a concrete box with spindled bars and maybe a grimy bunkmate.

"Was she worth it?" Detective Coulson finally asked as he swung open the back doors and led Loki into the station amid the cheers of fellow officers.

Loki didn't pause to think or miss a beat as he stepped out and stood with his head held high, "Definitely."

"Even knowing how this ends?" Detective Coulson laughed, still amazed by his cool confidence in the midst of defeat, "I knew the snare was good, but not that good...You're still too blind to see it for what it is."

"Knowing how this ends..." Loki repeated with a lopsided grin as Detective Coulson ushered him through the station house doors and straight on to booking, "That's a curious sentiment considering how many angles are being played."

Detective Coulson gave him an inquisitive stare, something was up and he didn't like not knowing. Pushing Loki through the door to the processing room he gave a nod to the guard as he slapped a pile of arrest warrants on the man's desk. Most of them were for minor infractions, but the whole heaping lot added up to a pile of trouble.

The booking processor undid Loki's restraints to begin the process, but said something strange instead, "You're free to go."

"What?" the Detective exclaimed as he moved to the doorway to stop him, "On who's authority?"

"The Mayor," the processor stated with an exhausted sigh as he started voiding all the paperwork, "He's waiting in your office. Wanted to have a word."

"Knowing makes all the difference," Loki whispered with another smile.

"You..." Detective Coulson threatened as he pointed at Loki, "I don't know how you managed this, but you're coming with me. I aim to straighten this out and you're not leaving my sight until I do."

"Yes, lets," Loki too easily conceded as he walked out the door and gave pause, "I'm sorry, I don't know where your office is..."

Detective Coulson let out a restrained growl as he marched ahead of him and made his way upstairs, content that he was going to see Loki behind bars one way or another. He stormed into his office as a pent up ball of anger, but he held his tongue when he found company standing awkwardly amid his messy desk and chair. The two towering men turned to him and he found himself floundering for words.

"Mayor..." Detective Coulson acknowledged.

"Odin will suffice," the Mayor stated with a nod before he gestured to the other man standing beside him, "And this is Thor, my son."

"A pleasure," he forced a smiled as he gave Thor a greeting, "I didn't realize you were following this case."

"I follow all the cases in this city," Odin announced in a thundering voice that made it abundantly clear who was in charge, "I believe there has been a misunderstanding involving my son..."

"Your son?" Detective Coulson puzzled before catching the mischievous grin tugging at Loki's lips, "He's your son?"

"He's adopted..." Thor quickly commented as he crossed his arms.

"Yes, so you see he hasn't actually stolen anything. The gem in question was on loan to The Vault for display purposes. If you trace the owner you'll see it's me and by family lineage, Loki as well," Odin declared, "He's always been a spot of trouble. I think he gets it from his mother you see."

"So where's the star sapphire?" Detective Coulson questioned as everyone's eyes turned to Loki.

Loki grinned and shrugged, "Where it's always been..."

With that he lifted up his golden cane revealing the mounted gem on top. Detective Coulson fell into a stupor as he eyed it. The pieces began to line up real pretty and for the first time he was seeing straight. He'd been right. This entire setup, beginning to end, was made to snare Miss Ruby Wright. He'd crafted her into too good a leading lady he supposed... He was half torn up that he'd spoiled their dramatic ending.

"I outta arrest you for leading us on a wild goose chase..." Detective Coulson commented, but quickly added an amendment because of Odin's threatening glare, "But I'm not...too much paperwork..."

"I thank you for seeing the error of your ways," Odin replied, "I can assure you that outside of the public eye this trickery shall be dealt with."

"I have no doubt it will be," Detective Coulson acknowledged, though he had nothing but doubt, "If you'll excuse me. Please feel free to use my office for as long as you need."

Withdrawing from the room he was still in a stupor. All his planning, sights set on a surefire bet, and this was how it ended. He wasn't sure if his best response was to laugh, cry, or find himself in the bottom of a bottle.

"A word..." the Police Chief called as Detective Coulson shut the door to his office with a sigh.

He stared up and everyone's eyes were trained on him. There was no mistaking what was about to happen. He was only left to wonder how hard the ax would fall. He trudged forward feeling like a dead man walking, but somehow he knew his career had let out its final breath years ago. Reality had just taken its sweet time catching up he supposed. It was another misstep in a whole line of failed take-downs, Spectre...the Hydra Underground...just stains on his career. He cracked a smile then, realizing he wasn't as torn up about the prospect as he thought. He'd gone down in a blaze of glory, a case for the books with more twists and turns than a dime store mystery. Who knows maybe he'd cash it in for a book deal and walk away with a pretty wad of cash...no, that wasn't really his style.

[] [] []

Loki stood solemn beside his father and brother. It was a grievous affair, but part of him wanted to smile. He was a troublemaker, he couldn't help it, but at least he was a clever one. Every artifact he'd ever taken was from their family's private collection, whether directly or indirectly owned. After a month or two it would suddenly reappear, but of course by then nobody cared. It was on to the next big story and it would be forever sensationalized under the Spectre persona. His mother had played some strange hand in its fruition, encouraging him to find an outlet for his devious interests; though it was doubtful she intended it to reach such heights.

"Maybe now you can put this Spectre nonsense to rest," his father announced as he walked out of the room, unwilling to allow any further exchange on the matter.

After the door shut and they were left in silence. Thor suddenly cracked a laugh, though transitioned it into a cough. Loki passed him a glance out of the corner of his eyes. His father had overlooked it, but Thor was not likely to let it go unmentioned.

"That's not the star sapphire..." Thor quietly commented as he regarded him with narrowed eyes.

"I know," Loki calmly replied as he ran his hand over the decorative stone atop his cane, though he had trouble containing his grin.

_"I think the only thing you're missing is a flashy gem," _Loki's mind brought up a slew of memories, all involving his favorite brunette.

_"You know...I think you're right. A gal could always use a little sparkle,"_ Ruby's voice acknowledged in his head, drenched in her satin red dress, though he would have preferred a view without it.

_"I'll catch you later..."_

_ "Not if I catch you first..."_ her voice countered and he finally caught the double meaning as she'd blown him a goodbye kiss.

_"So how would you do it?"_

_ "I would have already done it..."_ Ruby's voice echoed with a playful laugh. And done it she had.

It appeared for the first time in his life he stumbled across someone who wanted to play and he meant really play, not just indulge his whimsical banter. It was just too bad he hadn't noticed the breadcrumbs and she had certainly left plenty. She'd been right when they'd wandered through the paintings at The Vault. He was trying to corner her, only she was the one who'd cornered him. He was too busy baking the bread so to speak. It was a beautifully eloquent, if not depressing, end to their story.


	18. epilogue - once a thief

**epilogue**

* * *

**~ once a thief ~**

Phil Coulson was in his office packing his personal items into an empty filing box. He'd gotten the ax, one too many blunders, sticking his nose where it didn't belong. He'd argued otherwise, but there's no appeasing the chief once his mind was made. Maybe it was for the best. He'd started walking a road he didn't like and he could feel it changing him. No sense fighting for a man you don't want to become.

"What are you gonna do now?" Officer Rogers' voice suddenly inquired from the doorway.

Phil glanced back. The chief had wanted to let Officer Rogers go too, but Phil had stepped in. He wasn't about to let anyone else hang for his mistakes, after all, the kid was just following orders. In a strange sort of way Phil admired him. He stood for the good they all should have been, before the city seeped in with its taint.

"I think I might try a stint as a private eye," Phil laughed.

He'd never really entertained the thought of not being with the force, but something about his response felt right. He could tell Officer Rogers wanted to say something more as he shifted uncomfortably against the door frame and passed a quick ruffle through his hair.

"Looking for a partner?" Officer Rogers finally got it out, "Way I see it we make a pretty good team."

"You throw in the towel you'll never make Captain..." Phil commented as he passed him a curious glance.

"Eh...it's just a title. Besides, I've got too much heart, remember? Anyway, I fancy some free time to work on my singing career. A second chance came my way..."

"Of course it did..." Phil laughed with a shake of his head, realizing what all the fuss had been about that evening.

"Yeah, my barbershop quartet has been great, but I got an offer to move into the big leagues. Thought I'd give it a go...maybe take a risk on someone who's willing to take a risk on me."

"That sounds like a good motto to live by."

Phil tossed in the last of his stuff and stared into the dismal box, a sad remnant of an entire career. He hefted it up into the crook of his arm and made his way to the door. Officer Rogers straightened and stepped to the side just as Phil placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Can't argue if your heart is made up," Phil commented as they made their way towards the stairs, "There's a diner across the street, has the best Eggs Benedict in town, or so I've heard. I haven't had breakfast in ages. Figured we could hash some things out. Seems, as luck would have it, I'm looking for a partner. Whatdaya say, Captain?"

Officer Rogers grinned and shook his head. They walked out of the office as the sunrise was just beginning to crest. Phil realized for the first time he liked the view on the horizon. Tomorrow was a new day and it was going to be a good one.

[] [] []

It was the morning train leading to nowhere, another dead end in a long line of nothings. Yet there Loki was, walking through the long bumping corridor. The train rattled across the tracks and he slid his hand against the wall to keep upright. He'd given it a go, hell, he'd given it his best, but it didn't work out. Course Loki wasn't exactly one to let that stop him. He slid open the compartment door with a faint smile.

"Care to dance?" Loki's seductive voice inquired as he stared down at his favorite brunette.

Ruby was surprised to see him. It was apparent in her wide blue eyes, but soon enough she fell back into her calm demeanor. He could always count on her to stay in character.

"Last time you asked me to dance it seemed like you had two left feet," she casually cooed, though she withdrew closer to the window, which he took as an invitation.

"Well I wasn't expecting you..." he grinned as he took a seat beside her.

"You use that excuse a lot," she remarked, "What are you doing here? I thought you were pinched."

"Can't steal what you already own," he replied and she was left wondrously speechless, "Think you're the only one with tricks up your sleeve. I'm the god of mischief, remember?"

"So now you're a god?" she laughed.

"Of this city? Definitely."

She smiled and shook her head. It was a modest response that he feared would throw the conversation into awkward silence so he posed the question he'd been tinkering with in his head.

"So when did you nab the gem?"

She appeared to be thinking, weighing in on how much of her secret she was willing to reveal, "I did it before, just like I said."

"Why'd you take it?"

"Only gem in the city worth taking," she laughed and he relished in the playful sound.

"Now we both know that's not entirely true..." he countered and judging by the blush of her cheeks he knew she'd caught his real meaning.

"So...you chased me down to get it back?"

He'd hoped she wasn't serious, but as she slid the bag at her feet towards him he knew she was deflecting his advances. He started to pull back, but glanced down and caught a glimmer of something that revealed the true intentions of her declaration. In a single act, she gave him access to the entire picture.

"The Florentine Dagger," he whispered as he leaned forward and ran his hand over the aged gold, "You stole it?"

"No, they sent it to me."

"Who?"

"The museum."

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. There was no shame in admitting he didn't believe her, but before he could his mind played back to the package in her hotel room. It appeared she'd been cornered from the beginning. The law had tracked her down because she'd created a part and to keep herself in play she had to continue it for longer than expected, but that's what separates the pawns from the players.

"I never took it," she softly admitted, "The real one sat in the display the entire time. I delivered a forgery to them, claiming to have taken the real deal. Two daggers to make my game convincing because that's how a real thief would do it I always claim. Usually at the end of the job they return it to me, but seeing as everything's been switched around...It's a good replica, but eventually they'll piece together what happened, which wires were crossed and where they went. Not that it matters much. Even after they put two-and-two together they stay mum. Don't imagine they know what to tell the police. They hired me to steal something and I stole it. A proper transaction I should think..."

She trailed off as she meet his unwavering stare, cast unnervingly against his solemn features. She shifted uncomfortably, obviously uncertain how to read it, but he didn't bother to give her a clue. She was running a game and he'd been thrust in the middle. The Observatory and The Vault had both come knocking at her door hoping to test out a new security system and test it she had, right under their noses...right under his. He might have been mad if he didn't wish the idea had been his.

"Are you going to say something?" she finally pressed with a furrowed brow.

"I think we're going to make a rather devious pair," he whispered as he leaned forward.

Any closer and their faces would have brushed, but Loki didn't relinquish his position, as he'd cornered her by the window, intent that this time she wasn't getting away. As their eyes met they transitioned into a uniform movement as their lips collided in a breathy kiss that brought burning warmth to Loki's chest. He slid his arm around her waist, drawing her towards his body as they sank back against the cushioned polyester seats. He'd righted the wrong of their last departing. It was now a beautifully eloquent beginning.

* * *

**fade to black**

* * *

**Author's Note:** I've decided this story is going to develop into a series of 40s noir novellas using the same characters (with additions and subtractions here and there) as they navigate different circumstances of mystery, murder, and mayhem. The next installment will be White Heat.


End file.
